#and so now im going through all of my writing and cringing and deleting and rewriting and nothing is good and i want to cry BAD

[gingrrfrog]

having horrible impostor syndrome and feeling like everything i write is awful 🤠👍 

[norman-fucking-reedus]

Hey babes, love your work so much🩷

Could you possibly write some body worship and appreciation on daryl (including giving him head)? Like really sweet and caring but also hot as fuck? Lord knows he dederves/needs to hear it😩 Also another idea that popped into my head, could be in this or another fic, but him pulling your hair while fucking you from the behind, not like super rough or anything just kinda affectionate.

Pardon my rambling and thank you for always feeding my inner whore!💖

IT'S JUST A BODY OF YEARS

"That I leave all alone"

THE FUNTIME PARTS: Daryl x Fem!Reader, big boy is insecure, body worship, blowjobs, tbh daryl is a bit subby in this, face-fucking, gentle sex with some gentle hair pulling, creampies and a breeding kink of course

this request is another really old one that I only just recently got an idea for because for some reason I've been absolutely feining to just suck daryls dick. like I want his man peenar in my mouth like candy.

i feel like he gets overly insecure pretty often, some of it dates back to his childhood because I feel like there were definitely times where daryls father shamed him for eating or being "too big" at a young age, so there's always been some self-hatred that he just needs to have kissed and sucked away

I did take a little mental health break and i feel a bit better, I ended up having to go through my drafts and inbox to clear out mainly the super old requests that I just had no interest in, I really really wanna open my reqs back up for new and fresh ideas but first I have to finish the ones I already have

if this flops im deleting my blog and tumblr

Daryl Dixon wasn’t a man of many words, and he didn’t need to be in order for you to understand him.

His body spoke for him, from shy hands resting on your hips to soft kisses trailing up your neck, Daryl never needed to voice how he felt about you, and he knew how you felt about him, but sometimes he couldn’t figure out why.

Even now, as he stands in front of the mirror with his shirt off nitpicking at each imperfection littering his skin, he still can’t figure out why.

He was nothing but a low-class hotheaded redneck from deep in the south. You were so far out of his league that it was almost unbelievable that you'd ever want someone like him. Someone as breathtakingly gorgeous and downright stunning as you stuck with someone as dirty and disgusting as him.

The skin of his body was so rough and utterly ruined, cringing at the feeling of raised scars on his chest under the tips of his blistered fingers. How could you ever feel an attraction to someone like him?

He folded his arms across his chest, growling softly as he frustratedly blinked back angry tears as he tore his eyes away from the mirror, straight up offended by the state of his own body.

You approached him from where you were watching sadly in the doorway, sliding gentle hands around his waist and feeling him jerk away from the sudden contact in his vulnerable state. He never wanted you to see him cry. Hell, at this point he didn't want you to see him at all.

“Dun' look at me” He mumbled, arms tightening around himself as a wave of self-hate washed over him once more, your touch burning against his skin.

“But I love looking at you,” You whispered softly, hands trailing up his sides and coming to a rest on one of his biceps. “I love all of you”

Daryl shook his head, hiding his face behind his hair as hot tears welled up in his eyes again. “How? Why?” He had so many questions, but none of them seemed mattered when your hands ran up his arms and gently tried to pry them from his chest.

He balled up his fists by his sides, but you stepped in front of him and brought them into your own. “Well to start, I love your hands. You just don’t know how good the hands of a hard-working man feels” You said as you kissed the palm of his hands, nuzzling your cheek against them in a cat-like manner. "So rough and ragged, but so gentle and kind"

Daryl flushed a little as your face made contact with his palm, almost reflexively hold your cheek as you held it against your skin, kissing a soft trail against his palm, moving to his wrist and down the length of his arm.

Daryl did take a lot of pride in his arms, and you knew that better than anyone, dragging your fingers along his forearm where you could feel the veins protruding, bringing the digits up to his large bicep. “I love your muscles, my big strong man who can carry me anywhere I want with your drool-worthy arms"

At that, a small smile cracked on his face, but it disappeared once your fingers made their way up and across his chest, easily becoming insecure all over again.

He brought a hand down to your waist to stop you, squeezing it as you moved your hand to his face, softly cupping his cheek and brushing away his tears with your thumb. “Hey, it’s okay. I call you 'handsome' as a nickname for a reason, 'cause it’s true” You whispered, staring into his sad eyes. You pressed your lips against his, and then to the side, down his neck. "You're gorgeous to me, Daryl"

You mumbled the words against his skin as you kissed and sucked your way down his neck, taking your time as you went across his collarbone, down to his rounded pecs, all the way across his chest, softly trailing over bumpy scars on his oh-so-nicely sculpted abs, slowly lowering yourself down onto your knees as you worshipped your absolute hunk of man.

"I love your whole body. So built and sturdy, big and thick," You said in a sultry tone as you glanced up at him, running a hand over his bulge and cupping it through the fabric, watching the way his face flushed a deep red all the way down to his chest. "Just so perfect"

Daryl's fingers tangled gently in your hair, almost nervous as you pressed open-mouth kisses against his now-straining cock, sucking on the growing wet patch where his tip was. A deep groan pulled itself from his throat, your lips moving against his flesh as you moved to pull his boxers down with your teeth, yanking them the rest of the way down until he was in nothing but his bare skin, putting all of him on display just for you.

You kissed his defined hipbones, wrapping your hands around thick thighs as you trailed along his v-line, peppering feather-light kisses around his pelvis and reaching the base of his cock, his pubic hairs bushy yet somewhat trimmed.

"M'not the same from when we first met" Daryl whispered, his blunt nails scratching at your scalp as you glanced up at him, shrugging a shoulder as you teased his side with your fingers. "It's called growing up, Dar. To be fair, you were quite a chubby cutie back then"

He scoffed slightly at that. "Ain't no different now, 'always been on the bigger side"

"And I love that. Makes you so warm and loveable" You smiled softly as you placed a wet kiss against his tip, running your tongue down the underside to the base, taking one of his balls into your mouth before licking your way back up to the tip, listening to the shaky moan that left his lips as his fingers curled in your hair.

You wasted no time sliding the head of his cock into your mouth, humming around him in your own form of satisfaction as you pulled back all the way to the tip, going back down all the way to the base, relaxing your throat as you nuzzled your nose in the plush of his pubes, happily inhaling his natural scent as he groaned above you, pressing his hips forward as his cock rested snuggly in your throat.

He held you steady by your hair, pulling himself back and almost completely out before sliding right back in, repeating the action as goosebumps exploded across his skin, breathing breathlessly as he practically started to hump your face.

Tiny moans pulled themselves from your chest, flickering your eyes upwards to watch the way Daryl tossed his head back and dropped it back down, his pupils blown wide and eyes lidded, cheeks flushed a cherry red as your throat squeezed around his cock, Daryl's husky breaths and grunts filling the air as he pushed his hips forward, pressing his pelvis right up against your nose.

You pulled your head back all the way until he slipped out your mouth with a wet pop, coated in slick saliva as you suckled and kissed along the underside of his length, fingers stroking through your hair as you flickered your gaze up to meet his, smearing spit along the skin of your cheek as you basically nuzzled up against his cock.

"Wha'cha doin' down there doll?" Daryl asked in his southern drawl, raspier now from your previous antics.

He brought his hand down to the base of your neck, bringing his thumb to your chin and tilting your head upwards, watching as you innocently bat your lashes kissing against his v-line. "Just loving on my man, you're so hot"

"Real funny” Daryl said from above you, his hand cupping your face as you rubbed yourself up against him in a cat-like manner.

You smiled at him, kissing along his prominent hip bones and running your lips over any scars or imperfections. “It’s true, I’d eat you alive if you let me”

At that he scoffed, “Think m’gon pass” dropping his hand from your cheek down to your waist as you gradually kissed your way back up his body, lips fluttering against the skin of his chest as you felt the bumpy and slightly rough scars decorating his torso, running your hands up his firm pecs to wrap around his neck as your lips found their way to his face, peppering his scratchy beard in kisses.

“I love you, Daryl. I want you to see the man that I see,” You whispered against the corner of his mouth, brushing a stray hair out his face as you kissed him sorrowfully. “Not the one you see in the mirror”

His grip on you tightened, and you giggled softly when he twitched against your leg, eyes low as they flickered between you and your lips. When he kissed you. it was hungry, desperate and gentle all in one, a hand settling itself back at the base of your neck.

It wasn’t long before the air in the room started to get heated, shortly realizing that Daryl was completely nude and that you were still completely dressed, pulling away from him in order to tear your shirt off, hands helping to yank down your pants along with your underwear in a quick, fluid motion, calloused hands running themselves over your tits and squeezing, feeling their way down the rest of your bare body.

“Yer fuckin’ perfect” He mumbled out as he pulled you against him, dipping his head down in order to bite at your flesh, small groans rumbling softly through him as he groped at your waist.

You spun around him and twisted his body in order to be pinned between him and the vanity, heat pooling in your stomach as he practically towered over you. “That's what I'm trying to get you to understand”

“Oh, I understand alrigh’,” Daryl spoke in a low tone, bringing his attention back down to your neck and a soft pair of tits. “Jus’ shaped like a goddamn dream”

"Don't be so kind Sir Scupluted," You exhaled with a shaky breath, wrapping an arm around the man's neck as he pressed his skin against yours, dragging a rough hand down the pane of your back and helping himself to a handful of your round butt, scoffing out a small chuckle as your words finally processed in his mind.

"Sir Scupluted?" He repeated outloud as his breath fanned over your ear, dragging his scratchy yet soft beard along the skin of your neck.

You giggled as the fine gray hairs tickled at your flesh, Daryl's hands dipping down to grope and squeeze your hips, thumbs brushing along the skin of your inner thighs. "Have you seen yourself lately?'

Daryl grunted a little when you spun around in his grasp, forcing him to reposition his hands where they now rested on your waist, his front to your back as you smiled at him through the mirror, bringing a hand up to stroke his face as he rested his head sweetly on your shoulder, calloused palms feeling their way around your flesh lovingly as he pressed himself against you, almost trying to hide himself behind you.

It made your heart squeeze painfully, placing your other hand on top of his and looping your fingers together, brushing curls out his face as you turned to look at him, whispering out a small "Daryl," in order to full grasp his attention, a sad frown taking over your face as his striking eyes met yours, cupping his cheek. "You are the most gorgeous boy I've ever had the honor to lay hands on. You're the sweetest thing in this whole world and there isn't a thing I'd ever want to change about you. Not your face, not your voice, not your body, not anything."

He shook his head slightly in your grip, mumbling into the crook of your neck, "Ya dun' mean-" but getting quickly cut off by you pressing a finger to his lips, bumping your forehead against his. "I do mean it. You're absolutely perfect, Daryl, that won't ever change"

You spoke the words against his lips softly, humming and cupping his face as he closed the gap between you two, kissing you desperately and needily as the love in your words rang out in his head, feeling the way his heart was totally pounding in his chest and his cock was throbbing between your bodies, hands curling into your flesh.

Daryl's lips trailed down the underside of your jaw, hungrily kissing and sucking on your skin going down your neck, biting his way to your shoulders as a big palm came up to fondle one of your tits, the other snaking down to your hip as you pushed back against him, resting your hands on the dresser as you teasingly eyed him through the mirror, moaning slightly when he started to rut himself between your slick folds.

A wave of excitement pulsed through you when a large hand gripped your shoulder right near the base of your neck, Daryl pushing the head of his cock into the hot velvetiness of your cunt, a deep groan leaving his chest as he sank all the way in, nudging his pelvis up against you.

"Love my sweet boy, always making me feel so good" You almost whined the words as you clenched around him, nibbling on your bottom lip as the hand on your shoulder moved up to your hair, fingers combing and gathering the loose strands, holding them in a hand-held ponytail, nails scratching bluntly at your scalp.

Daryl was one of the only men in your life who could really make you finish, just the stretch of his cock was enough to get your eyes rolling, setting a rhythmical pace as he started to thrust his hips, pulling himself all the way back before easily slipping back in, burying his dick in the squishiest parts of you.

He admired your face as it twisted in pleasure, watching you through the mirror as you moaned with every thrust, eyes closed in bliss. He took the chance then to admire your whole body, from your round hips striped with stretch marks, all the way up the deep arch in your back to the tops of your shoulders, teeth marks and hickies already starting to bruise purple.

It didn't stop him from dipping his head down and taking the skin into his mouth again, wanting nothing more than to make it known to the whole world that you belonged to him, and that he so rightfully belonged to you.

You turned your head slightly to the side, Daryl meeting you the rest of the way and locking his lips with yours, swallowing all your tiny sounds while letting out soft groans himself, eagerly lifting one of your legs up to get that much deeper, the feeling that took over when hearing you choke and stutter over the new angle was indescribable, solely focused on making his pretty girl cum.

Which wouldn't take much longer at all, whimpers filling the room as you tensed up in his hold, the hand that was once in your hair now protectively wrapped across your chest, helping to support your body on one leg as your fingers curled into the wood below, mouth going slightly agape as your orgasm crashed into you, Daryl fucking you through it until you were trembling and twitching, slowing his movements to chase after his own release, rocking his hips against you gently as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, flushing more when fingers gripped the hair at the back of his nape, feeling your other hand squeeze his arm. "Fill me up Dar, please"

"Give ya' lots of lil' babies huh?" He mumbled against your skin, increasing the pace of his strokes as he was so close, feeling the way his orgasm tightened his balls and made his whole body hot and tingly.

You pulled him flush to your lips once more, tongues pressing and swirling around one another, tasting every little corner of his mouth happily. "Lots of them. I wanna have all your gorgeous babies"

With that, it wasn't long before Daryl's hips started to falter, a husky moan pulling itself from his chest as his cock pulsated, pumping his load into the softness of your cunt, dropping your leg back down on the ground when he pulled out with a lewd pop, instantly peppering you in kisses.

You spun back around in his arms, tossing your own around his neck and glancing at the damage you had done to his body, bites, and marks littering him from head to toe. "I love you sweetheart, I love you so much"

Daryl easily lifted you up off the ground, carrying you over to bed where he dropped down with you clinging to him, pulling the covers over both your nude bodies and squeezing you tight, so tight that it sent waves of dopamine rushing through you, heart pounding as you snuggled against your man's chest, his fingers in your hair and gently tracing shapes on your back, lips pressed to your forehead.

"Love ya' too doll, dun' know how I got so lucky" He whispered the words, and you could feel the rumble of them vibrate up close and personal, kissing right between his pecs. "Anyone would be lucky to have a man as faultless as you, but not anyone else can have my beautiful boy"

Hey everyone look!! Im about to drop another fic and then not drop for another three months!!!!!

WHOS EXCITED FOR THAAAT🤗🔥🔥

But anyway, I had plans to actually start scheduling posts but I don’t write that fast to do that so i’m just gonna throw this into the crowd and vanish again 🙏🏾‼️

also i have something against all of you who still use my tag but WHATEVERS. 🙄 A sexy bitch like me improvises (i asked daddy krys for help)

[abbs-writes]

talk too much | Spencer Reid

Warnings: kidnapping, torture, lots of bad language, Spencer gets angry and can be kinda mean, reader talks way too much, crying, uh lots and lots of angst and idk what else

Authors note: hey so, a while back I had a different account (ive had many different accounts) but it was something along the lines of gizmo-writes or gizmo-writes-sfw and this was posted on there but my accounts have been deleted since then, so if it seems familiar it might be but I can confirm it's by me, it's been sitting in my notes lol

"Guys! Guys! I got something!" Garcia rushed into the conference room, setting her laptop on the table and turning on the tv. There you were, completely out of it, obviously with the way your head lolled back. You were heated up, bruised badly and your head was bleeding but you were obviously so out of it that you didn't even notice. "Where is this coming from?" Hotch asked as Garcia shook her head, "I-I don't know, it's pinging off to many towers, whoever is doing this is- is using so many different encryptions and firewalls." (genuinely don't know tech terminology im so sorry if this took y'all out of it I apologize) She was shaking, so worried about you she wasn't sure she could think straight.

Spencer was the same way, but he knew he couldn't think straight. The way you looked, where you were, reminded him so much of how Tobias Hankle had treated him. Every single aspect that he had tried so hard to forget was coming back to him now. The abuse, the drugs, the cravings. He held onto the chair with an iron grip, knuckles turning white. He didn't want to see you like this, he didn't like the thoughts running through his head right now. He didn't wanna see the abuse you were going to endure, he didn't want to hear your tortured screams. This was his own form of torture.

You really couldn't feel anything but you figured that was for the better. Your head rolled to the side, your eyes were open but everything was so blurry you couldn't even see. You could make up an outline of someone, someone tall. For a moment you felt joy, you felt safety. "Spence?" You said. But it was spencer, he was on the other side of a screen and when he heard his name, his heart broke. He wanted to be able to yell at you, tell you that it wasn't him, tell you to run even if you weren't sure if your legs could move. But he couldn't, he just had to sit there and watch.

"Not quite," The man said, walking closer to you so you could see him. Your eyes narrowed as you realized the man in front of you truly wasn't Spencer and was in fact some psycho. You jerked in your restraints, trying to punch whoever was in front of you but yet you couldn't move. "Good try," he chuckled coldly. "Jesus christ," you murmured, looking down to see your hands tied to the chair. "You're begging for someone who doesn't exist honey," the man said. You rolled your eyes at that, "seriously? Why do you care if I beg for someone you don't believe in? Besides i wasn't begging I was-" You were cut off with a sharp slap to your face.

Spencer really wished you weren't so catty sometimes. Sure, he liked it sometimes, especially when you were able to stick up for yourself or him when someone said something rude. But right now he was begging you to keep your mouth shut. "Was that really necessary? You could've just told me to shut up-" once again you were slapped again. "Shut the fuck up!" He yelled at you. "Okay!" You yelled back. Spencer cringed, "why won't she just be quiet," he groaned. "Spence, she's trying-" JJ started but Spence stopped her, "I don't care what she was trying! She knows better than to fight back when she's unable to physically fight! All this will do is get her in more trouble!" He said, slamming his fist on the table as he watched you. "Kid, she's a smart girl." Derek tried to say but spencer shook his head, "She's not being smart right now." He said.

Spencer was right, you weren't being smart and deep down you knew that but god, you were so fucking angry. Angry at yourself, angry at the man in front of you. You don't even remember how you were taken, you don't remember what you did for this to happen, all you knew is it had to somehow be your fault. "Finally, she shuts up," the man said, grabbing your face and making you look up at him. "You're much prettier when you're quiet. Does your boyfriend ever tell you that? I bet he does because you can never seem to just shut the fuck up," he spat. You clenched your jaw at the mention of Spencer. "How the Fuck do you know about my boyfriend?" You asked, looking up at him angrily. "Why? Does that bother you when I mention him? Does it make you angry that i know about him?" He asked, squeezing your face to the point that it hurt. "Don't fucking touch him," you spat at him making the man pull back and wipe his space of your spit. "God, you're really fucking dumb aren't you?" He said. "Still smarter than you," you said.

Spencer couldn't watch this, he couldn't watch you dig yourself into a hole that he wasn't sure you'd come out alive. His jaw clenched as he watched you be tased, your head falling back as you cried out in pain. "Oh my god," Garcia said, shielding her eyes. Spencer forced himself to watch, he had to know, he had to see what happened so he would know how to help you when you got back. He needed to know, despite the fact that these images would be engrained in his brain forever.

"This isn't helping, we need to figure out where she is and I don't know how watching this will help." JJ spoke, half tired of watching you be tortured and half wanting to actually find you. "I don't see anything identifying in the background, no windows, no pictures." Emily pointed out. "She might say something if she knew he was filming. She may know where she is." Derek pointed out. "She can barely even see straight and with how much she's talking she might not even make it through the night," Spencer muttered. "Spence!" JJ said. "What?! I'm right! I love her but she never shuts the fuck up and right now it may cause her death but yet she's still too fucking stubborn to just shut the fuck up and pay attention," He spat. He was angry, he had every right to be. but his anger was misdirected at you. He was mad at the unsub, mad that a man took you and was holding you hostage and torturing you. He wasn't mad at you, a bit annoyed but never mad.

"Spencer, you are not helping us right now. We understand you're mad but you have no right to talk about her like that." JJ said. Spencer just shook his head, jaw clenching. "As much as you may hate this Reid, we need you. And what we need is for you to watch, to listen, see if her or she says something that may give us a hint. Can you do that? Or do I need to kick you out?" Emily asked, giving him a pointed look. "I understand, i Can do that." He said through gritted teeth. He finally sat down and just stared at the tv. He was thankful you couldn't hear him, he genuinely felt bad about what he said but he couldn't even apologize to you because you weren't here.

Your head fell forward after being tased multiple times finally stopped. "Will you be quiet now?" The man asked. You nodded, reluctantly. You wanted to speak but you were in so much pain you couldn't. You were shaking, you couldn't even move your head with how tired your body was. "Good, finally." He said, "now you can get a good look at this." The man said as he walked behind you. He grabbed your head roughly by your hair, pulling your head back to look up. You tried to focus your eyes but you couldn't, everything was so blurry and your head had started to hurt. "Do you see that? They can see you. They're watching. God, that's what makes this fun, knowing they're watching you but they can't do anything to help. Isn't that fun?" He asked. You didn't respond and obviously that made him angry. He yanked your head back by your hair making you let out a pathetic cry. "Answer me," he demanded. "Thought you didn't want me to talk?" You said tiredly. "You're a fucking brat you know that? I don't know how anyone puts up with you." He let go of your hair and your head fell forward once again.

Spencer closed his eyes tightly, breathing heavily. This was torture for him and now he knew the unsub was enjoying it. The unsub knew this wasn't only torture for you but for them too and he loved it. He hated every second of this, he hated every time you opened your mouth. It pained him, he knew you were angry, it didn't take a profiler to see that, but he just couldn't understand why you wouldn't stop talking back.

"I have to go out, you stay put okay?" He said, pushing your hair out of your face. It was oddly tender coming from a man who had just slapped you, tased you and pulled your hair and not in the enjoyable way. "Gotta make sure you look pretty for your boyfriend," he said. He then grabbed his keys and left. You couldn't think straight, everything was setting in so slowly. They were watching, you kept having to repeat that to yourself till you would believe it was true. You tried to lift your head but it just fell back down. You groaned, angry at yourself that you couldn't even look at the camera. You had something to tell them, you had seen the unsubs face and they hadn't. He wore a black ski mask around you and know you knew why, he had been filming this.

"B-bl-blue eyes," you spoke slowly, tiredly. You needed to get this out before you passed out again. Spencer raised his head to watch you. "H-he has blue eyes and brown hair." You had to stop to breathe. "S-scar on his face, left side on his cheek. P-please understand I am okay, i am strong," you croaked out. Your voice was betraying you and you hated it. It made you angry, making you clench your fists. "I can take It.. i-i don't know where I am.. it's the woods- i-I don't remember how I got here. Please- just find me," you closed your eyes tightly trying to hold back your tears. You dug your nails into the wood of the chair trying to calm yourself and ground yourself. Spencer had to stop himself from crying too, "Garcia, did you get that?" He asked. "Yes- yes I did. I'm looking. I'm searching. Uh blue eyes, dark hair, scar- uh- Jeffery Golden," She said looking at Spencer. "Name and address?" JJ asked. "Sending now," Garcia said. The team stood up and were quick to leave, Spencer included.

Garcia kept watch on you, once the team left she broke down and started crying. She had to constantly remind herself that you were okay but it was hard, especially when she was watching you fall apart in front of her eyes. They found the man, Jeffery Golden. But the problem was, you weren't there, you weren't in his house nor his job. You weren't there and that scared the shit out of Spencer. They had the man but no clue where you were and if they didn't find you soon, you may not survive due to your injuries. Sure, he could see the ones on the outside but he wasn't sure about any internal bleeding.

"Where is she?" Rossi asked the unsub who was sitting across the table from him. "Now where's the fun in telling you?" He asked, smirk playing in his face. "If you tell us where she is, we will tell them you cooperated. Now tell us where she is." Hotch said in his demanding tone. "Where's the boyfriend? I wanna talk to him," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Absolutely not, you tell us where she is and maybe we will talk about a deal." Rossi said. "Here's my deal, you let me talk to the doctor and then I'll tell you where she is." He said, still smirking.

With that Hotch and Rossi walked out. "Let me in there," Spencer immediately said. "No, we don't know if he's being honest," Hotch said. "That doesn't matter, if he's willing to talk then I should go in there." Spencer said. "He just wants to mess with you Reid, he has said it himself that he enjoys this." Rossi said. "I don't care, this is our only chance. Please just let me talk to him. Please," Spencer begged. Hotch shook his head, "Fine, but the second it goes wrong I will pull you out of there." He said. Spencer nodded before walking into the room.

"There he is, the stunning Dr. Spencer Reid." The unsub said, relaxing in his seat as Spencer and Hotch walked in. "How are you? How have you been?" He asked but no one spoke. Hotch sat down, "Reid," he said. Spencer stared at the guy as he sat down. "Oof, someone is angry, how can you truly be angry over someone like her? If anything I think she needs this. Someone needs to teach her to keep her mouth shut, arent I right, Dr. Reid?" He asked. Spencer was unwavering, showing no emotion. "Where is she?" Was all he asked. "Oh come on, give me something Spence! I know you think of her the same way I do. An annoying brat who has never learned to shut the fuck up and look where it got her. She needed to learn her lesson." He stated. Still he remained emotionless. "You said if we brought him in here, you would tell us where she is." Spencer said. "I said that and I may have lied. But come on, admit it. You hate her just like I do." He said. Spencer slammed his fists on the table, "I love her! Tell me where she is!" He yelled. Hotch stood up, "Reid, out," he said sternly. "No, Hotch he fucking knows where-" Hotch cut him off, "Out!" He said louder this time. Finally, Spencer listened and left the room. "I got something! Y/n said something about the woods so I looked into him-" Garcia was speaking fast but still Hotch stopped her, "Garcia," he said. "I think I have an address." Garcia said. She then immediately sent the address to the team and they were quick to be on their way.

Spencer was the first to find you, of course he was. He was on a mission and the mission was finding you. "Y/n, y/n, im here," he said, grabbing your face gently and pulling you up to look at him. You groaned in response as JJ undid your cuffs. "Look at me, tell me you hear me, please," Spencer begged. "You're so loud," you muttered, giving him a weak smile as your eyes slowly opened. God, it was good to see his face. "I know, im loud, i talk a lot, I worry, but god, im so happy you're okay," Spencer said, stroking your face. "I wouldn't say I was okay," you spoke so softly spencer could barely even hear you. But for once, he was so happy to hear your sass. "I know, the ambulance is coming. We'll get you checked out and you'll be okay." He said. He was the only thing keeping you from freaking out, from worry about the extensive list of injuries you'd have. It just felt so good to be in his hands again that you didn't care about your pain or injuries.

The ambulance showed up but god you were grateful. You felt so close to passing out and you didn't want to. You wanted to see Spencer, you wanted to remember his face just like he could remember yours. You wanted to memorize him, you wanted to love him. "Hey, it's okay, I'm still here." Spencer said as he held your hand in the ambulance. "Spence?" Your voice was soft and hard to hear through the oxygen mask. You pulled it down with your shaking hand. "Hey, no, no, you need that," Spencer said, trying to put it back but you shook your head. "N-no, im so sorry. Im sorry i talk too much. I'm sorry I did this-" Spencer shook his head, "No, you didn't do this, this wasn't your fault." He said, trying to comfort you. "Yes it was Spence, I talk to much, I made him hurt me because I can't shut up. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll learn, i promise," you began to cry. You tried to be strong but you knew you couldn't. No amount of sass would mask just how hurt you were.

Spencer hated this, no matter how many times he would say it, you would never believe it wasn't your fault. No matter what he would say, you would never be yourself again. You wouldn't be able to be sassy again, you wouldn't be as stubborn as you was. And he'd miss it, he'd miss every second of it. Every second of you talking back to him, every second of you being too stubborn to stay back with Garcia, he'd miss every single second of it and it broke him.

[caelivir]

rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)

— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it

— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)

— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!

rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.

but he especially loves picnic dates

you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off

you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job

so he agreed

and he loved it

spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.

rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.

“rayne!” you call for his attention.

your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.

“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.

“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”

a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispers.

rayne’s protective of you

he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it

if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that

the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that

he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear

you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.

“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.

you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”

“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”

“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.

the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”

“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.

rage.

he’s pissed.

recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.

the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”

you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”

rayne lets you wear his robes

whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them

when you first did it, he was going to protest

but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide

you especially like wearing them when you nap

though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time

“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”

rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.

this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.

yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.

rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.

that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.

“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.

the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him

rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.

whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls

he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like

you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm

and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him

an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.

the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:

dear rayne,

how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.

classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.

speaking of finn, he’s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…

gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.

- y/n

p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.

rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary’s face as he writes back to you—his home.

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

frank castle x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content minors dni! (car sex lmaooo, mxf nothing you haven’t seen before, its pretty sweet <3) swearing, canon typical violence, mention of scars, injuries, blood, literally packed everything into this chapter its a big one

a/n: wow. this was so rough oh my god. the entire first draft deleted itself and i had to re write the whole thing from memory, so i lost my planned chapter. i really hope i got everything in here, and im sorry for the wait AND how long it is lmao but i just. can’t believe i really finished it. ill rant at the end, but if you only read this part, i love you. thank you for letting me share the absolute vomit that is my brain. you are the best.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How was the drive?” Franks voice sends a shiver down your spine, even hundreds of miles away through a crappy phone line.

“Boring.” You sigh, pacing around the tiny motel room.

“You were meant to call an hour ago. Got me waitin’ up for you.” He sounds tired, and it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s stupid, but the image makes you a little giddy. Waiting up for you. 

“There was… traffic.”

“You get lost?”

“Fuck you.” You bite automatically and he groans.

“So yeah?” 

“Yes, Frank. I got lost.” He laughs, the sound managing to take your mind off the dark room you’d managed to secure for the night, the bedside light doing nothing to brighten the small space.

“I gave you a map. It’s a straight shot from where you started.” Rolling your eyes, you look at the map you’d now bundled into a ball and thrown into the trash.

“Who uses a printed map? Seriously, how fucking old are you?” It’s playful and familiar, and all the frustration of driving for 10 hours melts into the bed.

Being a key witness in a now ongoing case apparently didn’t come with any frequent flyer miles, because both Matt and Frank had said you couldn’t risk going through airport security and being flagged in a system, so it meant you had to drive nearly 18 hours to Florida. You thought you didn’t mind road trips, but after today you think it’s only road trips with Frank you don’t mind.

“Maps don’t change, baby. Besides, you’d drive yourself into a god damn tree the second that voice in the car told you you’d missed a turn.” You hate that he’s right— even the thought of that monotone voice droning in your ear for ten hours makes you cringe.

“Whatever. Tell me about something. You said you were going to speak to Madani today?” He’s the one sighing now, and clearly the talk was about as fun as your drive.

“She’s all over the place. Some mishandled evidence fucked their entire case, and Bobby’s lawyers were too well paid to let it go. Murdock said they’ll be able to find more— the appeal’s already been approved cause of how high profile it is, but he’s got no new evidence. He said he doesn’t know if they can get him.”

“That’s… what I expected, I guess.” Frank agrees, and your sudden silence only serves to bring the real issue to hand. “You know where he is?”

“Yeah. I got it covered.” The line goes quiet, and you don’t really know what to say.

On one hand, you want Bobby dead. You know can’t do it- it wasn’t smart, and the last thing you were going to do is drag everything Matt and Madani had worked for through the mud for someone like him, let alone put Sam in danger. Some fucked up part of you is a little mad that it won’t be you, but Frank has every reason to hate him as much as you. You know Frank wants this, and that telling him to stop is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Your hesitation would only spur him to do it faster, be more impulsive. You don’t want to say anything to put him off.

On the other, you just want him with you. You worry like some love sick child, scared he’s walked out the door and isn’t coming back. You worry he’ll get caught, and end up in the exact spot he was trying to get you out of. You’re scared he’ll get hurt, or worse. Every time you close your eyes you can see him bleeding out, dark red staining your hands until you can scream yourself awake. There’s so many things that could go wrong, and ten hours staring over the hood of your car gives you way too much time to think about hypotheticals.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Frank says softly, and you flop yourself back on the single bed.

“Are you?” He huffs like the question is irrelevant.

“Madani asked about your dad today.” He ignores the question, and you’re too interested to poke him on it.

“Oh?”

“Asked what he knew about your time there. If he ever worked with the Gnucci’s.” A lump forms in your throat.

“You think she knows about the weird... blood stuff?”

“Don’t see why she would. Either way, it’s not gonna matter once he’s dead.” The bluntness of it almost makes you laugh. “He’ll be gone, and no one will come for it. Or you.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, Frank.”

“I’m not.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Alright, I am, but not just that. The shit he said to me in there— the things he said about you. The way he looked at you in there… I watched that shit, and there’s no way in hell that asshole does what he did and lives.”

��What if he was found guilty? Would you of left it alone?” Maybe if you’d been more helpful to Matt and Madani, it would of gone better, and Frank would be here.

“You want me to answer that?” A part of you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. That wasn’t who he was. It shouldn’t make you feel the way it does to know that Frank would kill for you— just to make you safe. It does anyway, and heat flushes over your face.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He agrees, a low sound rumbling from his end of the phone. “I spent most of the day wishing you were with me, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out I fucking hate driving.” He laughs again, and if you could listen to the sound all night you think you’d sleep peacefully.

“You remember how mad you were that first time I didn’t let you drive?” Shaking your head, you flick off the lights slide under the covers.

“I was mad because you had a concussion and tried to fucking kill us.”

“Least I was gonna go the right way.”

“You tried switching drivers on the freeway, Castle.”

“Alright, I was a a bit out of it.” He says plainly and you smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “Wished you were here, too.”

“I bet you did.” He groans, and you hear him shift on the bed. Your bed.

“Too much space in here. Didn’t even know we had this much blanket.” He makes a real noisy show of it, tossing around the blankets you usually roll yourself up in. It’s meant to be a light hearted thing, but for some reason the idea of Frank spread out on your shared bed, one that you’ve both used extensively— it makes your heart race.

“Dickhead.” He groans again, shuffling around some more. “This one’s too small. Probably have to sleep on top of each other if you were here.”

“M’alright with that.”

“Not a lot of room to move, though.” You look around at the room, hardly enough space to stand in the corner.

“We’d figure something out.” You let your eyes flutter closed, humming high pitched at the idea. “What are you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“You.” You admit, and he seems to like it.

“Me too. Haven’t gone a night in this apartment without fuckin’ you in this bed. Drivin’ me crazy.” You hum again, pressing your thighs together to try and dissipate the heat that’s suddenly overtaken your whole body. “You thinkin’ about it now too, aren’t you baby?”

“Yeah, Frank.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He growls, and you bite your lip to hide your laugh.

“Why not, Frank?” You practically purr the word, drawing it out and saying it all breathy like you do when he’s teasing you.

“Cause you’re gonna make me drive ten hours just to fuck you in whatever dirty motel you pulled off into.” You’re still smiling, but you think if you keep messing with him, he’d do it. He’d drive ten hours, a hundred of them if it meant teaching you a lesson. Or just being with you. “I’ll see you soon. Real soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, knowing if you keep talking to him your entire plan will crumble in front of you, because you’re half considering driving home just to sleep next to him. “Soon. Be safe, okay?”

The words tumble out, and you try to hide the guilt you feel when you say them. He was only not safe because of you— because you couldn’t finish the job yourself. You’re glad he can’t see your face, because you hear him mumble on the other end and your eyes close listening to him.

“Always. Tell the kid I said hi.” With that, Frank hangs up the phone, and you slide it onto the table right next to the pistol you keep loaded and ready to fire.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank pulls the saturated beanie over his head, and it’s probably doing more harm than good at this point, but he doesn’t have a second to really give a shit. His eye-line is perfect— directed straight into the penthouse apartment Bobby Gnucci was driven to three hours ago. He’s been tucked away in the corner of the rooftop for just as long, watching the man pace and yell on the phone.

It had taken him a few goes to get the right frequency to listen in on the calls he was making, but once he had he took as much information done as he could. He’d had enough of watching, and now he was satisfied with the phones calls he’d listened to that the man was alone for the night; not counting his extensive security team layered through the apartment block. Frank felt the familiar hum in his veins, shoving his loaded pistol in his jeans and swinging the strap of a rifle over his shoulder, he headed down the stairs, across the street and slipped into the back of the building.

There’d be witnesses if he didn’t take the right route, and to make this work he needed every chance at an alibi he could get. He was so used to not caring— every time he’d gone into something like this, he didn’t have something to get back to. He had no preservation, no concern for what came after. Hell, if he was honest, he didn’t care if he went out doing something like this. He would of preferred it, maybe even hoped he’d die somewhere in the cross fire.

Even just talking to you on the phone had him itching to get back to you now. He wanted to be careful— something he never really thought of before. A heavy ache in his stomach that twisted something violent when he thought about not getting home, not making good on his promise from a few hours ago, it made him sick. He planned as much as he could, as much as he was capable of, and hoped to God it was enough.

Frank hid his body behind the corner of the wall. He hid his face, too, even though he’d already had Micro’s help shutting out the cameras. He knew it would set off alarms for the security team, but he planned for that. They’d spread out, follow orders that he’d listened to over the radio, three men on all the entries and exits, and then ten through the penthouse. If he timed it right, he could clear the first few levels before the guards arrived.

He didn’t care about making noise now— slamming his way up the fire access while Gnucci’s men no doubt got into position. He’d just past a number 6, and Bobby was on the top floor. 23. He kept going, not hearing any doors open. When he passed 9, the door on the level below him cracked open and he jammed through the next exit he reached, getting into position.

He could hear voices coming from his right, and steadied himself as he turned the safety off his gun. He had a small army of men to get through, but he knew if he could make it, landing the hit on Bobby would be easy.

He wasn’t nervous. Pure adrenaline flooded him, like it always did, and he didn’t think twice before standing out of cover and pulling the trigger.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How have you grown so much?!” You nearly shout, hugging Sam tighter as he all but latches onto your leg. “God, you’re gonna be my height soon.”

“I missed you!” He says, words muffled in your jacket. You don’t even have to bend really, he’s that tall. It is even possible for him to grow that much in just a month? “Come! I want to show you my stuff. Me and Niko share a room, and it’s the coolest thing…”

You let him drag you around the house, showing you the bunk beds that are set up for him and Nikolai. He shows you books he’s brought home from school, and it makes you smile how chaotic his room is. There’s piles of books and papers everywhere, stuffed under the bed and nearly toppling on the tables. It looks like it’s lived in… like a home, and your heart warms and breaks all at once.

When he finally finishes his impromptu tour, he pulls you outside where the rest of the family has set themselves up, and runs out into the giant back yard to chase after Nikolai. You hardly had a chance to say hello to them, but if you were honest you hadn’t thought of anything but Sam since you saw him.

“Did he show you the bunk beds?” The doctor— Zaed, you remind yourself, comes up behind you on the deck. “He hasn’t stopped talking about showing you.”

“I thought he was gonna explode.” Zaed laughs, and you turn to look at him. He’s still sporting a scar across his forehead, and it somehow makes his older features look slightly hardened. His face was still soft, something about him gesturing kindness, an observation you never made in the months you were locked away. “He told me you made them.”

“It took me weeks. I am not very… handy.” Smiling, you turn back to watch Sam and Nikolai screaming and laughing as they chase each other with Nerf guns. “I am sorry for what happened with the case.”

“So am I. If he’d gone away, you wouldn’t have to stay in Witness Protection.” He nods, turning away for a second only to return and offer you a can of something. “What is it?”

“It’s Russian. You’ll like it— it’s strong.” You crack it open and take a long drink, hoping to drown the rising anxiety that kneads the back of your mind at the thought of what Frank was doing right now. “We don’t mind it so much here.”

“Florida?” He nods.

“We want to stay. Corinne thinks the children— with what they’ve been through, shouldn’t move too much. They seem happy here.” You hum in agreement, listening  to the light squeals of the youngest girl, who’s name you haven’t learnt yet, who’s got the biggest Nerf gun of all and is shooting the shit out of both boys. “It was my idea. To offer to take him in. If you are upset, please lay the blame with me—“

“Upset? God, why would I ever be upset?” He blinks in surprise, looking to you.

“You are here with him, and yet you still seem far away. I figured the suggestion was weighing on you. We only offer because… well, we have all grown quite fond of him, and for you— to you we owe our lives. I thought if we could make any of this easier…” You shake your head, finishing the bitter liquid in the can.

“You looking after Sam is about one of two good things I have going right now.” Zaed seems to relax, leaning forward onto the railing as you both stare out to watch the kids. “I think he’s happy here.”

“He is. He misses you, but he is happy.”

“And safe.”

“Of course. I pity anyone who would try to get past Corinne now.” You laugh at the tinge of genuine anxiety in his voice, as if he imagines it, but his eyes are full of admiration.

“I want to talk to him about it… make sure he’s okay, but if he wants to, I think him staying here would be the best thing for him.” Zaed doesn’t answer right away, just lets the echoed laughter of the kids fill both of your ears before he nods simply.

“He will be safe. And I am sure you will learn to love Florida, too, with how much you will visit?”

“What?” Again, a look of surprise crosses his face.

“Sam did not show you the spare room? We have cleared a space for you— whenever you need it. You… it is the least I could do. You saved my life—“

“Hardly.”

“I owe you it. My families life. My own. Whatever you should need here, the door would be open to you.” You have to look away, because it’s too much, and you don’t know when you became so soft that shit like this made you tear up.

“You don’t owe me anything. You keeping Sam safe is everything I ever wanted. I think we’re even now.” You laugh, your throat suddenly feeling a little tight.

“I couldn’t help but notice you arrived alone.” He questions, and you hide your face, unsure if the way you chew on your bottom lip gives too much away.

“Yeah.” No amount of alcohol could drown out the thought of Frank. You hadn’t heard from him in a day. Zaed looks at you, his eyes crinkling as he assess you.

“I thought he was going to drown with you that night. When he saw you go into the water… I recognise that look in a man’s eyes.” It seems so long ago now, and your hand instinctively goes to your stomach, where Frank sewed you up the first time. “He is coming soon, I assume? I doubt he would let you get too far from him right now.”

“Yeah, he’s…” You trust Zaed— but there’s only one person who takes precedent over the people taking care of your brother. “He’s just finishing up some stuff with the case in New York. He should be on his way now.”

“Ah.” He says, his eyes lingering on you in question. You say nothing, just sink a little more of the can. “Well, when he kills the ублюдок, I hope he makes it last.”

Before you can recover and wipe the shock off your face long enough to ask him how the hell he guessed what Frank is doing, Sam and Nikolai are in front of you, and Zaed disappears back into the house.

��── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank grunts, a loud nearly animalistic sound vibrating off the walls as he clears the 23rd floor. Every time he breathes out, blood sprays out of his mouth. He can’t tell if it’s his own or he’s just covered in so much that it’s dripping off him. Either way he can’t help it, chest burning for oxygen after he laid the lower floors to absolute waste.

He’d ditched the assault rifle somewhere between the 18th and 19th floors, not even bothering to pull out his pistol. No— he’d fought every single one of them with his bare hands, and anything he could find scattered between dead bodies.

His right hand was fucked, and he’s pretty sure he got shot. Somewhere on the right side of his body, there’s a shooting pain between his thigh and his ribs, but it’s not enough to slow him down. He shoves his body weight into the penthouse door, throwing himself into guards he knows are ready and waiting for him. He reaches for his pistol, shooting three guys in the head before his eyes adjust to the dimmer lights in the room.

He hears them shouting orders, and he kills three more as he crosses the living room. One of them he puts through the TV screen, glass shattering under his hand as he crushes the man’s skull between the hard surface. The other two he shoots, and then moves towards the last four. All of them shield the door to the bedroom— putting their lives on the line for a man who doesn’t deserve the air he’s wasting.

Frank doesn’t have a moral compass when it comes to revenge. Not when it has to do with the people he loves. It’s why he clears the round of bullets in his gun on all four of them in less than thirty seconds, watching the lifeless bodies pile up in the doorway, there isn’t a single moment that he hesitates.

“Bobby!” Frank shouts, his voice horse and so loud he’s got no doubt the dead hear it.

He hears shuffling, and drops the pistol before stomping his way through into the bedroom. He sees Bobby, crawling across the floor in an attempt to reach for a gun dropped by one of the guards, but just as he goes to reach for it, Frank slams a bloody boot down on top of his hand, feeling the crush of bone under his weight.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and Frank smiles sickly, blood dripping from his teeth. “Get the fuck off me, you animal!”

Frank kicks him in the face, two of his teeth flying out and scattering across the carpet. As he rolls over, Frank grabs him by the collar and sits him up, watching his head lull to the side.

“Wake up.” Frank slams his fist into his skull. There was no way he was passing out this fast. Not after what he’s done. “Wake the fuck up.”

His hands shake with how hard he’s holding Bobby upright. So hard he feels the bone of his collar begin to give, and Frank chases the idea. Bobby thrashes, screaming as his eyes shoot open, the sound kicking Frank back into gear. He lets go of his shoulder long enough to pull back, only to drive his fist and crack the rest of his shoulder.

“Help m—“ Bobby tries to shout, but Frank shuts him off with another well placed shove of his weight into Bobby’s stomach, winding him. He wheezes, the pathetic sound something like music to Franks ears.

He punches him again— over and over. Not enough to kill him, though. No, Frank wasn’t done, he was just feeding the thrill. He’d been waiting too fucking long for this, and there was something satisfying about seeing this man— this weak excuse for a man being blinded by his own blood as he cries for someone to help him.

“Ain’t no one comin’ for you.” He growls, and grabs Bobby’s face so it hangs straight. His jaw is slack, but his eyes go wide when he feels the blade at his ribs. “You know that? That there ain’t a single person out there comin’ for you. No one gives a shit about you. You’re alone in here— your life in my hands.”

“Haaa—“ Bobby tries but whatever it is fades out into a scream when Frank slides the blade between his third and fourth rib. Slowly— real fucking slow. “They… they’ll come. Th-They’ll come f-for me.”

“No one’s comin’. Dead. All of ‘em. You’re alone.” He slides it a little deeper, watching the realisation wash over his face.

In truth, Frank wasn’t doing this for him. Sure, it felt fucking good, and Frank was enjoying the sight of the life draining out of his eyes, but he wants him to know why. Why he’s here, why he took out every last man in this building so he knew there was no hope. No one for him to go to.

He knew that’s what it was like for you. Frank couldn’t give you back those years, and he couldn’t take that much time with this— he’d thought about it, but he wanted this to end here and now. He could do this here, for you. Could make him know just how it feels to have all that power beat out of you, and know that there’s no one out there coming to save you.

“Stop…stop!” He wails, and Frank hits him harder. Every crack of his fist sends Bobby further into unconsciousness, and when he manages to stop himself, he shakes him awake again.

He gurgles on his own blood, dark red pools choking out of his mouth. His face is unrecognisable, already starting to blow up as he strangles in a few short breaths.

“I can… I have money. I can p—“ The effort of the words sprays another load of blood out of his mouth, and even though he’s exhausted, Frank laughs.

“You think I want money?” He leans down, yanking the knife out of his ribs and shoving it in again.

“Fuck! What do you—what do you want?!” Bobby wails again. Frank smiles.

“I want you to know that she’s the reason you’re dead. The last thing you’ll know is me— my face, and you’ll know it’s because you ended up just like you made her. Except she got out, and you never will.” Frank loses sense of time, his injuries starting to catch up with him as he yanks the knife out one more time, before slamming it home into Bobby’s skull.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m watching!” You shout as Sam lines up again, taking a few steps back before rushing forward and kicking the ball towards their make shift goal in the yard. You have to admit, for only been playing a few weeks, he’s got a hell of a kick on him.

“See! I’m getting better— my coach says next year I can try out for the first grade team if I keep training!” He’s smiling so big, and then he’s gone again, picking up the ball to take another shot at Nikolai who’s got goalkeeper gloves on, ready to catch it.

You’d be happy to watch this all day, but then Corinne calls out to you, telling you your phone is ringing, and you all but leap over the railing of the deck. When you race inside, you expect to see Franks name, and your heart sinks when you don’t. You knew he wouldn’t be able to call until it was over, but it’s been nearly two days since you’d heard anything. Then, you see it’s an unknown number calling, and your hands are shaking when you disappear into what is meant to be ‘your’ room to answer.

“Hello?” You recognise the voice instantly when she says your name. “Fucking hell, Karen. You scared me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but are you?!” She nearly shouts, and you are still coming back to your mind with relief it wasn’t someone telling you Frank was dead. “I don’t even know how you did it, but I don’t want to. The way they found him… Jesus.”

“Wait. What? Karen, I’m in Florida.”

“What?”

“I’m with my brother in Florida. I came up here two days ago after the trial.” She goes quiet, and you can hear the commotion in the background. Remembering it’s a Tuesday, and that she must be at work, it only furthers your suspicions. “Who’s dead?”

“Bobby is. They found him. They found his body— but…”

“Karen, tell me.” All you need to hear is Frank wasn’t found. That he got out of there before anyone saw him. It would be your fault— all of it would be your fault if he was found. You needed to get back, you needed—

“Sorry. Sorry, I just thought… with everything that happened before, I thought it might of been you. Bobby’s dead, but… there’s nearly 50 men in the building with him. They’re all dead. And Bobby; he was hardly recognisable. It took them nearly 24 hours to identify him.”

“24 hours?” Frank needed to get out of New York as soon as he killed Bobby. If the police had been crawling around there for nearly a day… “Karen, I gotta go. Thank you for calling.”

You cut it off before she responds, and call the only number saved in your phone. It only rings twice before he answers, and you could nearly cry when you hear his voice.

“Stop fuckin’ ringin’ me, Murdock. I don’t know shit and I’m busy.” He grumbles through the phone, and you choke out something between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, fuck. Sorry— hey, sweetheart. Was just about to call you.”

“It’s… did the— job go okay?” You try to calm your voice as best you can, knowing that if anyone traces the call he’s done for.

“It took me longer than I thought. Had to get stitched up, then Curtis drove me halfway— passed out for most of it.” Before you can ask, he answers. “I’m fine, don’t do that.”

“You’re okay?” Relief floods your body, phone nearly slipping out of your hand with how hard you were gripping it. “Everything’s… everything’s okay?”

“Come see for yourself. I’m pulling up.” Like a kid on Christmas, you toss the phone and basically sprint to the front door, hearing an unfamiliar truck rumble down the isolated street.

He’s driving, clearly having ditched Curtis, but when he gets out he’s got a limp, and his hand is bandaged. You don’t run, instead you stand in the driveway and soak up the image— Frank; leaning against the door of the truck, sunglasses covering up what you have no doubt are black eyes. Alive. Favouring his left side and still with dried blood on his head, but fucking here.  

“You’re hurt.” You say it when you finally reach him, but it sounds pathetic, closer to the tone you’d whimper his name in.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says huskily and reaches out, yanking you forward and slamming his mouth to yours.

The soft touch of his bandaged hand is opposite to the greedy grasp of his free one, the one wrapping around your back and fisting the material of your shirt, pressing so you were flush against him. Both of your hands cup his face, feeling the rough surface of his skin. You lose yourself in the taste of him as your fingers trace the patterns of scars peppering around his head— a constellation you’ve memorised a million times over, and yet it still feels as illuminating as the first.

He groans your name, sliding his hand up to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip. You lean back slightly, staying at close to him as possible. His eyes look you up and down, and there’s a glint in his eye; a hunger that never seems to be satiated when he looks at you. He’s still feverish for it, and it makes your toes curl in your shoes.

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your lips, and it makes you smile against his.

“I can tell.” His other hand forgets it’s injury as he searches your body, gripping your hips and pressing you closer.

“Get Sam. Let’s go home.” He tucks his head lower, mouth kissing under your jaw, and as much as you do want to get the fuck out of here with him, you pull away.

“He’s… he’s staying here.” Frank pushes the sunglasses off his face, looking at you through what is actually only one bruised eye.

“Staying?” You nod. “You sure?”

“I talked to him about it. He fucking loves it here, Frank. He didn’t want me to go again, but you should of seen him with them. They treat him like their own, and he adores them. It’s so much better than anything I could of thought.” Frank wraps his arms around your back and hugs you right, and your eyes flutter closed. “And you can’t just leave. They’re expecting you to come in and say hi.”

“Why?” The way he says it makes you laugh, as if you’d just asked him to drink gasoline.

“Come on.” You tug him by the wrists, and even though he groans and leans on you up the driveway, you both stagger inside and follow the sounds of Sam’s laughter, leaving everything else behind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“They were being nice.” You haven’t wiped the smile off your face since you slid into the passenger seat this morning. “Well, I slept great. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Mhmm.” Frank grumbles, clearing having a much worse sleep than you did.

It was sweet, and truely, you wanted to take them up on it. When Frank dragged himself through the front door of  where Sam had been staying, everyone had nearly jumped on him. Sam couldn’t contain himself, clearly trying to play it cool but simultaneously thinking Frank was the coolest person he’d ever met. It was sweet, the way Frank was with the kids, the sight making you both smile and want to cry.

Either way, when Corinne and Zaed had offered for you both to stay the night, Frank agreed and all but dragged you down the hallway after dinner. The spare room was nice— set up clearly for two people, and you were only human.

It would have been perfect— had the room not been sharing a wall with your brother and his new best friend. A very fucking thin wall. One that was nearly vibrating with how loud they screamed every five minutes playing some game on the TV. The louder they were, the more it became apparent that neither of you would be getting a lot of sleep, and not in the good way.

Having Frank that close all night but not being able to do anything about it reminded you of the start of this whole thing. How you shared a bed with him but had to force yourself to keep your hands to yourself. It was borderline painful, but eventually you managed to drift off to sleep, not missing how hard Franks hands were gripping your hips like he had to physically cement himself to stop from fucking you through the bed.

When you woke up, Frank had all your shit shoved in the car, and was outside cooking pancakes with Sam. You took your time saying goodbye— making sure to thank both Corinne and Zaed properly, and then promising you’ll be back. Soon. ‘So soon you won’t even have time to miss me’ you’d promised Sam, and he grinned and hugged you before disappearing to get ready for school.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Frank looked to you before shifting in his seat, one of his hands resting on your thigh and squeezing.

“Got a stop to make before getting back to New York.”  You’d been driving for a while now— about half way between New York and where you’d left Sam. You turned in your seat, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be cryptic.” You try to sound assertive, but you can’t seem to hold any resentment when you could feel the warmth of him palm on your thigh.

“It’s close, alright? Promise.” The words eased something in your chest, the same way his smile did when he looked at you.

A small silence drifted between you as a Billy Joel song hummed softly on the radio, and your head dropped, eyes tracing over the bruises left on his knuckles. Your fingers dance around them, careful to keep your touches light. You follow the lines of black and blue up over his wrist, watching them disappear under the arm of his jumper. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and when you push up the sleeve just slightly, you swear loudly.

“Fucking hell! Is this broken?” You pull the sleeve up higher, and you tighten your grip on his wrist when he goes to pull away. If you hadn’t watched him so closely, you would of missed the way he winced, and you let go immediately. “Sorry. Sorry— fuck, Frank. Is this all from—“

“I’m fine. Just a couple scratches.” He says, keeping his blackened eyes trained on the road. It would of been easy to miss— not seeing him without clothes since he’d come back. Bile rises in your throat at the thought he was hurt because of you— because he was doing this for you. Suffering for you. Like he has the entire time.

“Are you lying?” He shakes his head, and you lightly poke him in the side. He hissed loudly, flinching away from you and swerving the car. “Pull over.”

“I’m not pulling over.” Frank groans.

“You’ve been driving for hours, just—“

“It’s fine. We only got a few more miles till—“

“Please.” There must have been something in your voice, some kind of soft vulnerability that even he isn’t used to hearing, and then the car is pulling off the side of an empty highway, dusk rolling over the hood of the truck.

You reach out, pulling the sunglasses off his face to reveal him slowly. This part you’ve seen, but it still knocks the wind out of you. The cut along his cheekbone, not deep enough to need stitches but you know it will scar over. His right eye is a deep purple, the left nearly green. You go to draw your fingers over his face, but hesitate, worried you’ll hurt him. He sees you pulling back and catches your wrist, placing your palm between his cheek and his own hand.

“Don’t do that.” You choke out a laugh, smoothing your hand over and back into his slightly longer hair, pulling him closer over the console of the car.

“I’m not doing anything.” You say softly, something guilty in your voice. When he hears it, he shakes his head at you.

“Can read you like a book. You got nothin’ to do with this, alright?”

“I have nothing to do with it?” You want to laugh. “I’m the reason you were there. The reason all this happened.”

“I would of been in the same place with or without you. This part?” He gestures to himself, his torso that you know all too well is littered with scars. “This isn’t a part you blame yourself for.”

“But it is. My fault.” He opens his mouth but you talk first. “All of this… watching those kids today, watching Sam— all I ever did was put him in danger. And you. It’s better for him to be there, away from all this. Away from me. Maybe now all this is over, it would be better…safer, if you—“

“Stop. I don’t wanna hear that shit. You know how selfish you sound?” You blink a few times, eyes meeting his. At some point he’s leaned even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body thawing you out. “You’re right— I wouldn’t of gone back to New York the past two days if it wasn’t for you. You know why?”

“Listen—“

“No. I wouldn’t of gone back because I would of killed that asshole six months ago and been home in time for dinner. I’ve been doin’ this a long time, and there’s nothin’ you could of done that would of changed how this ended.” He holds your face up to his, rough hands holding you as gently as they could, and his thumb traces the scar just above your eyebrow. “Sam is safe with them, but don’t think for one fuckin’ second he’s better off without you. God knows I’m not. You’ve done nothin’ but good for that kid, and I’d… fucking hell. I’d be dead without you, you know that?”

“No you wouldn’t.” Your voice was so soft it hardly broke the silence, but he leaned in, his forehead pressing to yours. “You could probably jump out of a building and walk it off.”

“Maybe. But now I gotta be careful nd’ come home to you, don’t I?” He smiles, and then kisses you and you forget where you are. Words die on your tongue and are replaced by the taste of him, mind freezing over when he touches you. He does it every time. Every time he manages to take your breath away with one whisper of your name, one swipe of his thumb over your mouth. It’s intoxicating and dependant, something you never thought you’d want, but it feels so good with him. His hands drop to your waist, their pull demanding and needy as he yanks you up and over the centre console and onto his lap.

“I’d do it again. All of it. Kill every single—“ You kiss him again, squeezing your eyes shut, and he groans as you shift on his lap. “Fuck, baby we should wait till…”

“Till when?” You say breathlessly, and despite his words his hands are already sneaking underneath your shirt, his cool hands meeting your feverish skin. You can hardly keep your eyes open, and your hips roll forward again, seeking him out. “I want you now, Frank.”

“Fuck it. Doesn’t matter.” He says and then crashes into you, your back nearly pressing against the dash with how quick he moves. Your gasp of surprise is lost in his mouth, and you can feel the sparks he makes in your chest crackling their way through you, toes curling in your shoes.

Your half bent backwards, legs in either side of his as he keeps your chest pressed to him, both arms wrapping around you to hold you steady. You tug at his shirt helplessly, getting it stuck around his arm and he smiles against your mouth, leaning back to look at you before whipping it over his head.

In the dark of the room last night you wouldn’t of seen it, but now the lights streaming in from the car window, and Franks torso is nearly a rainbow in it— blue, purple and green bruises all up his side, with a short but deep cut on the low right side of his abdomen. He’s taken the bandage off it too early, the stitches still healing, but you can tell it’s expert work. Much better than the botched job you did a month or so back, something he still bares the reminders for.

“Just… just a couple scratches, huh?” He grunts something illegible and hauls you back to him.

“Shut up.” He keeps you pressed close, not giving you a chance to say something back, but then his hands dip lower and you’re a goner.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeah. Fuck waiting.

He’s got you here— now, on top of him, and he can’t even fucking think of anything else. Your hands are being so gentle and cautious when he really couldn’t care less about the pain, but you do. You always do.

He wasn’t gonna waste another second, and seeing your eyes close the second he got your pants off and dipped his hands between your legs… it’s pretty much as close to heaven as he was going to get.

You fall forward, Frank catching you with one arm and pulling you close while the other continues slow, teasing circles just how he knows gets you all worked up. Your head tucks away into his neck, and he lets you hide for now, but when he’s got you home— real home, then he’ll be able to look at you as much as he god damn wants.

Your hips move against him, chasing his slow rhythm, and he feels your teeth scrape agains this neck, wordlessly rushing him along. 

“You need me that bad?” He says lowly, and watches in awe the way his words wash over you and yank you closer to the edge. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t of left you so needy—“

“Fuckkk… right there—please.” Your voice was so high it cracks a little, and it fucking sets him on fire.

“Get my belt for me, baby.” He whispers, feigning a bit of self control as he watches you quickly fumble with the buckle. The slight brush of your hands could finish him then and there, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to try and remember why he wanted to wait. He had just one more card to play— one that you’d seen him play a few times before, but he doesn’t think you expect it this time, and he needed some semblance of composure to remember it.

A real house, white picket fence and all, smack bang on halfway between New York and Florida. He couldn’t leave New York, not ever, but he had a new anchor now, one that deserved to have it all.

Frank planned to take you straight home. Make a ten hour drive and keep his hands to himself, but how the fuck could he when you were like this? Looking like you do, touching him so fucking sweet and soft and saying how much you missed every part of him— it was a dream come to life, and one of the few moments he’d let himself go in.

You shuffle as close as the seat allows, your now naked chest pressing against his. He dips his head, kissing your jaw, and he’s suddenly surrounded by you. Arms around his neck, warm and soft as your fingers thread in his hair, both of you moan at the feeling of him sliding into you. It’s white hot and nearly painful, how even with the way you’re dripping down your thighs, it still takes you a second to take him all the way. You wriggle your hips, trying to settle yourself and Frank nips at your neck, slowing your pace just slightly. He can hear you sigh, but you listen. You always fucking do.

“Shit— so fucking good. You can take it.” He hums and runs his hands over your skin. You lean into the touch, and when you sigh again he sinks your hips lower, a short punch of your name bursting from his chest when you slam yourself down. “Fuck. There you go.”

He’s a wreck underneath you, and your hands slither away from his hair to his face when you pull him up to kiss you. As much as he loves the feeling of your hips grinding down ever so slightly right now, it’s this part he loves the most. The slow intimacy of it— how he knows he can stay right here for the rest of the day and nothing will change. He can feel how much you love it, how much care you handle him with, and it cracks something old and hard in his gut.

You shudder as he lifts his hips, keeping your mouths together and kissing hungrily. He’d think you’d both been starved for a year the way you two act, but he’d admit it to anyone that asked that he was gone for you. He knows it well and true, in his chest and in the way you bounce in his lap, moaning into his mouth like he’s breathing air into your burning lungs.

“Fuck— fuck, I love you. I fucking… Jesus Christ, you’re so good. I love you.” He can’t shut himself up, and your breath gets faster. He knows you love it when he talks. “C’mon, baby. Let me see you— wanna feel you. I know you want to.”

“Slow… Frank, you’re gonna hurt yourself—“ You suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His hands stay tight on your hips, and he feels the pleasure buzz under his palms, your skin nearly alight with it on top of him. “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He wraps his forearm around you and fucks you harder, any pain and injury burnt out by how tight you are around him, and how perfect you fit him. He’s close, so close that he’s hardly able to kiss you now. You both collide in a mess of tongues and sighs, and when he hears you croak out his name into his mouth, he knows you’re cumming for him.

He can’t hold himself back, chasing you into that high with blinding abandon. It hits him like a freight train, bowing him over you like he’s taken a hit, but it feels so good he can’t register that he isn’t breathing like this. He keeps kissing you until he’s sure he’s going to pass out, and only stops when you pull away, eyes darting to the highway where headlights slowly flicker on the horizon.

“Shit.” You say breathless, and you laugh. He can feel it, the sound shuddering through him from where he was still deep inside you, and your giggles soon turned to something less innocent when you heard Frank groan into your chest. “C’mon. Someone’ll see us.”

“Don’t move yet.” He puts his hands on your waist, fanning them out to reach as much of you as possible.

“Mhmm.” It’s like your body gives out at his request, slumping forward and moulding into him like you were made to fit this way. This was what he was talking about. The way you fit together— something that should be out of the question for him fits so right. “I love you, too.”

“Mhmm.” He copies and feels you smile against his skin. His hands trail up your spine, tracing the line of bones lightly to leave goosebumps in his wake. “What time is it?”

“Who gives a fuck?” You mumble, the words half muffled into his neck.

“I want you to see the house in the light, but you wanna go at it blind, be my guest.” It takes you a second, a scoff coming out of you before you sit up abruptly, making him groan again.

“House? What house? Another safe house.” Frank couldn’t keep a secret to save his life when it came to you.

“It’s a house. Twenty minute drive from here.”

“But New Yorks not—“

“I know. Good thing we got cars, yeah?” Your eyebrows are crossed together, and Franks thumb slips over the small scar he left on your face. The movement shifts your gaze to something softer, and he feels the brush of your eyelashes on his finger as you blink up at him.

“You did it on purpose. It’s right in the middle.” You say softly. “Jesus, Frank. You didn’t have to… I mean you—“

“Take a breath. I didn’t buy it. Was a gift from the US Goverment. One thing those guys are good for is their money. I just picked the spot.” He could nearly hear the rave of your heart, and you crushed yourself into him, words hushed and mumbled into his ear, but they melt him to the core all the same.

He’ll never get over hearing you say things like this to him. That you’re grateful for him, that he’s doing a good thing. It’s like nothing he did before you was ever good enough. There was always the next job, always the next group to track, but nothing would be enough. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him. But here you were, telling him that he was the reason you were gonna be alright, and if he squints he can see it. The flicker of something hopeful, and if he holds onto you as tight as he can, he might just live to see it light him on fire.

“Did you say… you said twenty minutes from here. Why didn’t we just wait until—“

“Would’ve ruined the surprise.” You laugh again, and the feeling has him gripping you tighter. He leans closer to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “And I wanted to fuck you here and now. Don’t want there to be a single fuckin’ surface where I ain’t had you.”

“Better get driving then, Castle. Sounds like you got a job to do.” The glint in your eye nearly makes him drag you outside and bend you over the hood, but the kiss you give him after is sickeningly sweet, so much so that he lets you slide off him and back into the passenger seat without so much as a nip of his teeth. “Tha–”

“Wait. Wait til you see it.” Frank said, and something about the way he looked at you had you nodding simply, and watching the trees race by as he sped you home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were asleep on the balcony again, and Frank moved as slow as he could to let you stay that way.

In the two weeks you’d been here, he could count on one hand how many times you’d actually slept in the bed. There were no neighbours for miles, nothing interrupting the stretch of sky all the way to the hills. Even Frank had to admit it was a killer view.

He came inside, pouring himself a drink, and a strange pit in his stomach settled after the burning liquid soothed his throat. He can’t seem to kick that feeling when you’re asleep. When you were awake, next to him, there wasn’t anything else he could think about. But alone, walking around a house he owned, a life he might try and live staring him in the face, he felt guilty. There were parts of him he wouldn’t ever get back, but this wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have. Peace and quiet, time to himself. A woman he loved within eyesight, buried under blankets cause she was too stubborn to come inside when it got freezing. He couldn’t figure out why now, of all times, was the time to be thinking of Maria. The weight of the ring around his neck was like an anchor. He knew it was stuck on the bottom of the ocean, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He would sit there, hand cut up and bleeding, holding on for dear fucking life if no one moved him, waiting until he drowned.

Your footsteps were soft, in a way that he knows you can’t help. You tread through the open double doors, and Frank would roll his eyes at the way he could hear your teeth chattering if he wasn’t so distracted.

“You should of woke me.” You say, voice muffled from the mess your head was buried under. He took a step toward you, pushing it back so he could see your eyes.

“It’s late.”

“Couldn’t tell.” He can hear the smirk in your voice.

“You finally frozen to death, smart-ass?” You grumble something in reply, and he catches a few curse words before you look at him again. It’s nearly scary, the way you can read him with one sweep of your eyes. You clock his tone, the way he isn’t leaning into you with his full weight, and squint your eyes.

“What is it?” Frank sucks in a long breath, and kisses you.

He’s a complete idiot. That’s what it is. He can feel the buzzing pulse you wake in him, every movement of your lips on his rooting you deeper in his soul, chipping off ice until theres only warmth. How’s he supposed to tell you, after you’ve just kissed him like that, that he was thinking about his–

“You can talk to me about her, Frank.” You say with your head against his. Not it, her. Before he can ask, you smile a little. Even just a hint of that smile and he’s forgetting how to breathe. “You play with the ring when you’re nervous. It’s actually a bit of a tell.”

“Yeah?” He manages, hands trying to search their way through the blankets for you.

“Yeah. You have a lot of tells. For someone in your line of work, it’s actually a bit worrying.”

“You got me all figured out.” He says and means it, but you just roll your eyes.

“And you lean to the left when you think you can’t make a shot. You think it helps your angle.”

“Who woulda thought you were so observant.”

“You know, I actually did watch you when you were teaching me how to shoot.” Frank smiles, your skin finally under his palms. His hands splay on your back, and you lean closer.

“You were trying to fuck me the whole time. Don’t blame me for being surprised.” You try to whack him but your arms are pinned under the layers. Your laughter carries through him, skittering into his chest until he can’t help but laugh too.

“You came onto me.” He laughs harder. “It was very unprofessional. I was there to learn.”

“Damn fucking right I did.” His voice is low, and you shuffle around under his hold until your hands snake up behind his neck. His hair is too long, but he hasn’t cut it just yet. He tells himself that he hasn’t had time, but truthfully he likes the way it feels when you sift your fingers through the ends of it. Like now.

“You can tell me.” You say again, softer. He’s softer too– more malleable now you were here.

“I can’t help it.” He looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where the sun is now just starting to rise. “She woulda… woulda liked it here. The kids, too.”

“You think so?” He nods, still staring into the orange sky.

“Probably would of had a lot to say about the inside, though.” You wrap around him tighter, head on his chest. “She was so good with those things. She loved when we painted our house. She had all these colors painted next to each other on the wall. All these different kinds of green. Everyone kept sayin’ it all looked the same but she... she could tell the difference. I could see what she meant when she put the couch next to it and shit, you know? She was real good with that stuff.”

“We could use her help around here. This place is sort of… ugly, on the inside.” He laughed again, his throat feeling tighter as he looked around. There was those same colour swatches, but none of them were coordinated like he was remembering. Pinks, blues, oranges and grays were all mixed together in big, sweeping strikes along the wall, stopping right above where your arm would be able to reach. “What would she have gone with?”

He looks down at you, your face washed in the light of the sunrise.

“The light orange. It looks good with the brown.” He nods over to the couch, an old leather one you’d made him pick up off the side of the road.

“We’ll do that one, then.” You tuck yourself under his chin, sighing.

“I think about ‘em everyday. What the kids would have looked like now. What they’d be doing. How Maria and I would of… raised ‘em. I was away all the time, but I just-”

“I think you would have been just fine.” You say into his chest, and Frank takes a shuddering breath.

“Why’s that?“

“Cause she was in love with you.” His chest tightens, and the grip he’s got on your waist gets a little tighter. “I’m… I’ll never be able to fix…that. It’ll always be with you, and nothing will change what happened, but I want you to know that they will always have a place here. You don’t have to apologize for talking about them– the kids, or Maria. I will never, ever not listen, and it will never be something I don’t want to hear. If they’re always with you, they’ll be with me, too.”

Frank takes two steps forward, and your feet pick up just in time to catch yourself before he throws you back on the couch. He’s never been good with words for things like this. He doesn’t think he should try to shove it all in a sentence, either. Not when theres so much he wants to say, but even more he wants to do.

You lay back, and he moves slowly. He wants you to know every move, every brush of his hand and his mouth is by design. He wants to know every square inch of you inside and out like you know him. He wants his hands to pull the strings, letting you hear all the things his mouth could never possibly form.

“Perfect.” Frank sighs against your mouth, over and over again. It was. You were. Are. The pit in his stomach disappears, pushed out and engulfed by the flames in his chest. There was no room for anything, not a single other feeling or word could possibly fit the way you two fit together. Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he takes it over his head. Your hands run and smooth gentle lines over his chest, over the healing wound on his side. It's jagged and wonky, and it nearly spelt your name. Frank thinks it’s the first time he’s looked down at himself and not hated to see the scars.

He unravels you like a gift to himself, savouring every moment even when you try to shrug off the blanket. You hadn’t dressed since last night, and Frank liked it even more this way. You sighed his name, and Frank shuddered, sealing his mouth over yours again. When his eyes opened for a split second, he could see your face, washed in orange light, and your hair swept to the side. He shut his eyes and kissed you again, the image seared into his mind forever.

Frank had faced a lot of bad things in his life. He had been shot, stabbed, pulled apart and put back together more times than he could remember. He thought he’d seen it all, felt it all before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing made him as weak as your fingers in his hair, and nothing made him as strong as the way you moaned his name. Nothing felt as good as sliding inside you, and nothing felt as empty as when you were gone. It made him lightheaded and brought him to the brink of consciousness, but he knew that this was right.

It could of been minutes or hours that had passed when he let himself go, but no amount of time with you under him would stop him from wanting more. The sun was up now, and Frank had you tucked to his side on the small space of the couch, legs tangled together in the blankets and each other. He felt you shiver against him, and the blankets wrapped around you had come loose. He bent to fix them, and when he moved you did it again.

He looked down, seeing the cold line of metal pressed against your bare back. The ring at the end was hanging over your ribs, and when Frank touched it, it was freezing. Holding it in his palm, it didn’t feel as heavy as it used to, and when he read the engraving on the back, he still felt cold.

Looking down at you, how you rolled over and sought him out even with your eyes closed, he leaned down to kiss the scar on your forehead. Then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he slipped the necklace off over his head, and placed it in a neat circle on the coffee table next to his head.

They would always have a place here. But it wasn’t them who gave him warmth anymore.

When he tucked himself back under the covers, he knew it was you. It was always you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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okay theres going to be an epilogue at some point, but it will probably be small and have very little plot, so this is the end of the main story. so, heres a little rant for you. if you read it, thank you, and if you dont, thank you anyways. knowing anyone is reading my words is a gift enough.

i think i have been writing this series for like 5/6 months ish?? thats fucking wild. i dont have an exact word count, but all i know is its fucking long. i cannot believe i wrote this much about a fictional character, but damn. that is a lot.

basically all i want to say here is thank you. to anyone who has read, interacted, or will read in the future, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it might be a lil dramatic but having people read stuff i write, let alone actually enjoy it makes me so incredibly happy. starting to write on here, and for frank especially, is probably one of the best decisions ive ever made. this series was a struggle to finish for so many reasons, mainly my incredible lack of planning and overall dumb writing schedule, but i have met so many incredible people along the way, and i am just so grateful to have a lil space to share my work.

frank castle will probably always own a giant spot in my heart, so thank you for letting me share my version of him. and letting me add as much smut as i want to this with no complaints bc i fuckin needed it okay!!!!!! i love you all. rant over. series over. damn!

p.s. i am never not going to write frank. dont worry. i already have an idea for my next series lmao!!!!!!!! luv ya!

[heirloomeds]

RESPOND TO THE FOLLOWING PROMPTS OOC , THEN TAG OTHERS YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW BETTER.

tagged by: no one tagging: @bury-me-low, @gccdwitch, @ickybby, @eternclsunshine, @testdrves anyone else who wants to!

roleplayer name: shay! i actually started using the nickname because my high school boyfriend randomly called me that and i decided it was my online alias since them. and now in adulthood, the only people to call me by my govt name are my family members.. who i don't talk to anymore lol roleplayer pronouns: she / her preferred communication: probably through tags? tumblr im's are ass and i honestly forget to reply for so long and feel awkward responding to a conversation months later 😭 and i never used discord, because i felt like it was just an extension of tumblr im's so i deleted it lol. we all have our busy lives so talking in the tags of an rp is more than enough for me <3 experience: joined in 2011 during the harry potter cringe. accidentally got into a spat with a draco malfoy rp blog without realizing it was just roleplay lmao preferred roleplay type: para/novella! one-liners don't do anything for me. at the same time tho i take forever to respond w/longer threads because i wanna make sure my replies have substance and it's not just rambling filler for 8+ sentences. and then if i wait too long, the muse disappears and i feel bad 😭 i try to do medium length to be fair, but get carried away dsfsdf pet peeves & dealbreakers: ooo a lot lmao but #1 is not reading anything about my characters or their lore and then trying to engage with them anyway. i understand its a lot of information thats been YEARS in the making, which can be kind of intimidating i guess? but a complete lack of interest/effort is just disrespectful to me. if someone really isn't into character development & just wants something quick (which is fine!!), i'm just not the right blog for them

secondly, i also don't like when i'm expected to jump into a relationship thread when i don't really know the mun or their character idk, those things take time and i don't like being rushed into a dynamic that's still fresh with someone i don't really know. things are more fun when i took the time to know the mun. yk when there's mutual investment in our worldbuilding and we engage with each other's lore posts, ooc posts, follow each other on pinterest etc! the C in RPC stands for "community", and that's what makes this experience so much fun<3 plots or memes: memes can be fun, but i have more energy for them with a developed character relationship! i like a bit of light plotting. too much makes me feel creatively stiffled, like i have to follow a specific path and check in on every little detail. for me, i think it's best to have a general idea as to where we're going but let our creativity take the wheel. if a thread concept works, it works! but if after a couple replies we lose steam, we can just drop it and try something else, and there's no pressure to keep something going if the muse isn't there or drafts are overwhelming best time to write: tbh whenever my daughter is napping or asleep. i'm with her in the mornings and i work in afternoons, so i really have to squeeze it in whenever i have some quiet time. but usually, my replies come during her nap (around 1-3PM), or the evenings when i have more time to sit down and actually decompress are you like your muse?: like every mun, i think little bits and pieces of me are scattered around in every character. some more than others. but none of them are really "like" me because i don't use roleplay as an outlet for my emotional issues like i did when i was younger. but dakota's character was heavily inspired by my older brother, who i unfortunately don't speak to anymore. but the better parts of him live on forever in my most cherished character

[just-eyris-things]

im moody so let me talk about my characters and why i am rewriting them so much

SUPER LONG POST. I mean it.

some of you have been following me for quite a while, some of you are a bit newer to my blog, some of you might be seeing this and be thinking "who the fuck are you" and to answer that question - hi, im eyris and i have perma gw2 brainrot!

well that was not where i was going. where i was going was "some of you have seen what my characters have been through and that i quite often rewrite them"

so today i'd like to talk about that a little bit. why is it happening, for the start.

I guess the best answer would be that i am getting better ideas and i am getting better at articulating them. i am also growing as a person, which also changes how i view my characters and what i want to say with their story. and sometimes i feel like things are cringe because not many people like my stuff. in no way i mean to fish for likes, no, i am contempt with what im getting (most of the time). what i mean is that i still feel like this very small and cringy blog among so many great people who have much bigger following, better stories, better art, better...everything, really. i guess a part of me wishes to catch up to them, be more like them, even if that is...1. impossible and 2. probably very stupid in your eyes.

so there's that. now, let's go over some of my characters and how they've changed across the years.

EYRIS, the main-main, game-wise and story-wise changes.

Eyris was my very first character, initially she had no story. TBF when i started gw2 my english wasn't so good and i was very lost with the game's story. I mean, i thought the Elder Dragons were some big bad organisation! Some people called themselves Dragons, something like this. As I said - my English wasnt very good back than. TBF I was like....15, I think. Yeah. I also somehow convinced myself I had to keep Eyris as a sylvari because other 4 character slots were for other 4 races and i had to keep them free! But I loved playing Eyris! SO! I fucking. I fucking deleted Eyris and made her again. over. and over. and over. and over and over and over and over.

AND THEN I went to a theatre on a school trip and we watched a play and the very handsome actor played a teacher named Mister Ross. I was 16 at a time (I think), so of course I was like "I like that name" and... I deleted Eyris for the final time and remade her as Eyris Ross. I had no idea that sylvari, according to canon, had no surnames. So when the time came when I started designing more lore-compliant story for her, my initial idea was that she was in love with a human and thats how she got her surname but he "died or something" and thats why she was now traversing Orr. I remember writing a scene of Eyris entering a Pact tent with Trahearne conversing with other leaders and she went completely off because she was sent on a suicide mission to scout Arah before going after Zhaitan and only she came back. Yeah. That....was a time. Somewhere in that time I also realised I did not like Ross backstory but I didnt want to delete Eyris again, I grew super attached (also all thjat crafting was developed completely...) so I changed her name to...Eyris of the Night. Because she was a Nightbloom and because someone took "Eyris" and I was sad about it. Still am, tbh. Somewhere then also Anriin came to be. A Priory scholar, quite mean... and she was Eyris's girlfriend who killed her in HoT because Eyris was getting corrupted! So tragic! But I scratched that off because I didn't vibe with it. I think I still have sketches though from that time so if I find them I will post them. I was 19 at the time when Eyris/Anriin was a thing. Then the Soundless plot came in. And then...

I used to have a friend. A best friend, actually. We were a package deal. So of course we bound our stories together. Eyris was just someone who happened to be there. She wasn't the Commander or the Dragon's champion. She was Just Some Plant that happened to be at a place at a time and ended up befriending the Commander (that friend's OC). Then Tragic Backstory TM happened. Eyris was a Soundless who was taken by the Nightmare Court. She was saved by a group of mercenaries (Idk who hired them. don't think too much about it). The group consisted of a young charr gladium (love interest), asura twins (siblings figures) and a norn elder (father figure). there was also a Mean Human Girl TM who bullied her because ???? and there was a drama in the group and the Mean Girl then fucking lured them into a trap (the Undead are attacking!) and everyone fucking died! Eyris survived and Trahearne saved her from the risen. Ever since Eyris hated necromancy (death magic, connection to zhaitan, zhaitan killed her loved ones) and mesmers (the Mean Girl was a mesmer). Eyris tracked her for years and she brutally murdered her in the jungle during HoT (how did the Mean Girl end up in Maguuma in the first place???) but revenge didnt help, it only drew her closer to mordremoth. Also her dog died in HoT (Mordremoth corrupted it and she had to kill it)

And then PoF time. She went to the desert. Why? I don't know. She went there and befriended a wild jackal pack for reasons unknown until today. That's how she got her mount and friend, Aiari. A few years ago Eyris became a Dragon Champion because I wanted to get her to have more story involvement and significance. And some time later I scratched off the Mercenary Group and changed them into Just A Norn Dad plot.

Currently Eyris's story is actually in this google docs right here but recently I had a Big Think and realised that No, the Vigil would NOT be swayed! So... you can take a peek on how it looks for now. Big Thanks to my friend Awerzo who shared her idea of character timelines. I stole it. It helps.

I am pretty sure I forgot some plots that existed for some time hhh

MOVING ON. AIRELL. The second Main.

Remember that friend I mentioned in Eyris's story? Well, Airell was initially created with their Commander in mind as his love interest. It did not fly. OG Airell was a shallow fuckboy that flirted with everything that moved. Then I wanted to add trauma because that's what you do, so Nightmare Court Boyfriend!!! Yeah it... didn't fly.

Then there was "unrequited love for Trahearne" plot, and after HoT Airell shut down and left for the mountains. They were supposed to be alone in their grief and die alone. but my earlier mentioned friend asked if they could make a friend for Airell. I reluctantly agreed. And so, Ewyn Rhosyn came to be. Ewyn and Airell had such a great chemistry that even if me and my friend said "just friends", these two fictional chartacters decided to date. Honestly, one of my fondest memories. I still cannot recreate a similar chemistry that these two characters had and believe me, I TRIED SO HARD.

Anyway, before Ewyn... Airell's grief was accompanied by a wish to forget all the pain they had endured. They set off to find djinn as they heard that the djinn could grant wishes. In hopes they could wish for erasing some painful memories, they looked for them, at the same time growing ravenous. When Airell finally encountered a djinn and learned that djinn magic did not work the waythey hoped for, they succumbed to hunger and ate a poor guy. Airell realised they could satiate their hunger with magic and so they became the ravenous djinn eater. Yeah. No, scratch all that. As much as I liked the concept, as a creator I wanted Airell to be likable, and let's be honest. eating people is not really the way to go, is it? Yeah......soooo then i decided to make them suck magic out of people (without killing them). Djinn eater became Deldrimor's Banshee, then I changed the name to Deldrimor's Siren, since I really liked that scary Fear Not This Night version.

As my friend and I lost touch, I held onto Airell and Ewyn for some time and then ditched it for my own sanity. I really liked the name Thorns and Roses though so I made my own gay rose mender - Achilles Flameshaper, who after losing his healing abilities became a therapist on a remote island for people who needed refuge (Whale Tail Island, or as I like to call it - Therapy Island).

The idea was that after Airell reawakened in the heart of Maguuma after the events of HoT concluded and after they learned of Trahearne's unfortunate fate, they mourned and succumbed to the magic hunger and was looking for the source of that big magic signature (cough balthazar cough), in their vinetooth form (pic below) they met Achilles and Eyris heading to the Commander's wedding. Achilles was just giving her a ride. Achilles and Eyris fought the lost mordrem in order to secure the area. Airell gets hurt, detransforms, oh no it's airell! oh no what do we do! Achilles takes Airell to the Island because clearly Airell is both physically and mentally hurting. While that part remains canon for Airell until today, their big romance with Achilles did not bloom as I planned. but you know what started vibing with me? TRAMMANDER. Because I decided to make Airell the commander from PS until the start of HoT and then reassign the commander-ship to them somewhere in the middle of PoF (thanks Nia Furaha for holding the line from HoT to PoF!). And if Trammander is canon.... then we're back to Trahearne angst. and guys, I needed to rework that too, so...

I added the whole Trahearne resurrection (ritual goes wrong! not clickbait!) idea! I am still SOOO vibing with it pls ask me questions about this im vibrating!!!!!!!

The Ewyn plot in PoF/LWs4 is CRAZY and I would need a separate post for that but I dont have time for that. Instead, let me tell you a fun fact - Airell died 1.5 times. 1 - stabbed during HoT and put in a blighting pod, and 0.5 in LWs4 when they got swallowed by Kralk and everyone thought they died but then kralk threw them up (sorry Airell).

NIA FURAHA

Nia was fun. A nice human commander, initially she was supposed to take the role of a commander after me and my friend stopped talking, but with time i decided to pass that role in majority to Airell.

Initially, Nia had a backstory. Which accidentally came out racist, so I won't be talking much about it. What I can talk about comfortably are her vigil years.

OG Nia joined the Vigil to protect people. She became a commander through recommendation and battle prowess. She was proud to be the commander, the hero of Tyria. But then I was replaying LWs2 and had thoughts. I thought what if Nia joined the Vigil to escape Anise's clutches. What if they wanted to get Nia into Shining Blade and she didn't want that? I had that storyline for some time but I don;'t like the person this makes Nia. She would not survive the dragon war with that motivation. So...I'm reworking her again when it comes to her role as a Pact soldier and Part-Time Commander.

Freya Wyldwolf

Freya has a long story. She started off as Freya Riverblade. Which is funny because I played hammer on her. Reasons? It was her father's hammer. Her father "left for a hunt and never came back" (as in he "died or something". again). Her mother was bitter, tried to get her life back together but with a wrong person and freya got a half sister. Her mother hated that child because we need that plot (insert eyeroll here pls) and Freya got her motivation to join the Vigil (previously she was a Whispers agent but only because I liked Tybalt ok).

But scratch all that. Freya now has a twin, her name is Wyldwolf, and her half sister was not neglected. Her mother was not the mother of the year but she tried. Freya comes from a long line of OG Wolf followers, so theres always "wolf" in the second name of her family. She is from Cragstead and is besties with Braham.

Also in IBS she killed a corrupted Spirit of the Forest (cough reworked boneskinner cough) and her name changed to Freya Spiritkiller, she did not take it well and is currently MIA.

....

There's also Yvrell but I'm not vibing with it right now also this post is super long and i've been typing it for hours so.

Yeah.

Thanks for reading, Bye. Or something. Love you.

[hwsforeignrelations]

As a hobby sketchbooker, its a favorite pasttime to go chronologically through old sketchbooks and note improvement. Im gonna supplement the rant below with old art, cuz its relevant and i think they're neat

I accidentally deleted my old tumblr like five months ago which held a similar sentiment (*SOB* but no use crying over split milk)

I see a lot of fan artists getting burnt out. I see a lot of Hetalia artists stay for a bit, then leave for other fandoms (higher pastures, if u will). I use to not understand. How did people become bored so fast?!?!

Ive never been one to switch interests quickly. I was solidly leg deep in my superhero phase 5-8th grade. I started reading exclusively usuk fanfics in 8th grade, and have hardly ventured beyond usuk.

I'm trying to branch out more.

Hetalia is unique in its ability to teach crash course history and have enemy soldiers devouring each others cocks in the same paragraph. Double win!! The concept of international relations translated to human ones, of a nations pain having physical embodiment, of fantastically diverse headcanons dissecting the intrigues of Nation biology... Its all very yummy thinking food

Ive never read the manga, ive hardly watched the show. Im fandom built thru and thru!

Like the pic above, I use usuk as experiments to run all my ideas thru. Mix media,

World building, swatching, expressions and unfamiliar subjects. Theyre my go-to! since I started taking art seriously in 2021 and those events were mainly usuk themed

my styles always changing, and I'm usually using America and England to do it

Combined with writing and a poor conceptual understanding of base material (aka CANON) i have trouble knowing WHO alfred and england are, in my style. They're constantly changing designs make it hard for my writing to capture their characters consistently.

I get so fixated on solving my own inconsistent characterization writing. Its stupid! Im going to college across the country in ten days, for Christ's sake!

Its no use getting worked up over an inconsistent style- this IS the period of constant change, of constant growth and its great fun processing new interests through art, through two characters i am familiar with (even if i somehow don't know them at all)

Ive been reading stories about the royal navy: so i practice some made up naval uniform on england! That's just an example - i really do process new information through them, finding fun in research

Once i couldn't stop thinking about the scene below, about the intrigue of gore (a genre id never taken an interest to). And i was cringing about doing it to myself (about how ouchi it would be), but like all my creative ideas j filter them through characters - it feels safer that way. Then drawing myself in there. Yuck.

So i practice the idea in Alfred. "Oh ouch yup- looks just as gross and painful and I'd imagined. Perfect!!" Now ive got an Alfred doing this gross thing, now i have a headcanon about nations cleaning their tongues witn razors.

Now i wanna write about it. Haha its all a very self-feeding pattern.

Not sure if this rant makes much sense, but basically i STRUGGLE to establish characters. Partially because i play so much with them in my doodles with anything and everything i find interesting - perhaps it makes too many factors for one character.

[lordoftablecloths]

vent post i guess i dont know i just wanted to write stuff down instead of just go ing to bed and crying over it you can just scroll past it

im fine im sane im noramal im so unbleiveably cringe ,, the only person i have irl- fuck, or even online for that matter- to show the dumbass things i write is my silly little dumbass younger brother who doesn;t understand what im trying to get at and i guess its not his fault, i seriously doubt he's spent unhealthy amounts of time making various short scenerios in his head about charcters he came up with and eventually trying to give them a story and write little things about them in google docs because where else am i supposed to put this and its just ,, he doesnt know wht im trying to do and i dont know how to explain it to him because the "history" i gess behind it is so fucking complicated by now that these characters arent even the same characters as they were when i originally created them, other than some physical attributes and their names and he just knows them as the random cringe shit i made up in middle school but so many years have passed by now that these stupid fuckers whose only purpose to serve is to make me stop remembering that i exist and ive gotten too attatched to them because who else was i supposed to get attatched to when i was going through an identity crisis at the time- and, quite frankly, still fucking am- and it was so much easier to pretend i dont exist and just project my flaws and insecurities and underlying subconcsious thoughts into these charactes that no one knows about except me and oh god im just created a long ass vent post on tumblr that no one's going to read and no one understands the story behind fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck whatever ill go ahead and post this unfinished thing because no one's going to get it either way ill probably delete it later if it doesnt get buried under reblogs

dont think too much about this i just got sad because my brother was giving me a bunch of criticism on an outline of a story i was working on- which is fair, i need to take criticism- but he only knows the characters in it as their semi-formed cringe versions so i chickened out half way and now i feel bad because i was really proud of this thing for the whopping span of like one day before i decided to show it to another human person instead of letting it rot away inside of me like i usually do and now i feel bad about my writing skills

im trying so hard to just take his words with a grain of salt because this kid does not have nearly as much experience with writing as i do, but i feel like im copying too many of my inspirations (DnD, generic fantasy story about defeating evil creature, silly tropes, etc,,) which sucks because that was just like the first two pages of the outline and theres nine fucking pages and like the second half of it was what i put the most effort into and i felt like the ideas were really origianl but i could make myself let him naturally get to that part of the outline because i was starting to feel really bad and wieerd and oh god he is looking at ideas i havent ever expressed to another human person even though i am very familaiar with because i came up with them and they havebeen in my head for at least a year or two by now and have been haunting me ever since so instead of skipping ahead to the parts that were really good in my opinion but would have made no sense without context i just told him to piss off i gues s

i dont know. i feel dumb. i feel stupid. ive put so much effort into this stuff and the concept that ive been wasting my time feels like too heavy of a weight to handle. god none of this porbobably nmakes any sense ,,,,,,,,, i guess this is why i feel miserable when the fanart and shitpost memes i post get a comically larger audience and attention than the art relating to my silly goofy ocs, because these stupid fucking characters are all thats keeping me going . call me cringe, but is it still cringe if the concept that maybe i too can be around people that love me and instead of having to like me in spite of my faults love me for them keeps me from fucking killing myself is it still cringe?

if a tree falls in a forest and no one's around, does its fall even make a sound? (shit piss fuck sorry i dont remember the original quote and all i can remember is tha t one line from that one musical i dont remember what it was)

if an autistic moron that cant even talk to a cashier without having a panic attack makes a universe full of fictional characters of his own cfreation then an alternate universe, then several alternate universes, then a spin off from that original universe and etc etc but its all just on google fucking docs and no where else except deleted excerpts from a dead wattpad account, did he ever even create anything at all?

its pointless. its all so fucking pointless. its a waste of time. why do i do this at all. its so fucking pointless. it makes no fucking sense. you cant just make a story with characters in it, then make a fucking fantasy au of that universe with the same characters but with different designs and wildly different personalities and then make a whole fucking complicated lore-filled story about the fantasy au version while the original universe's story is still left mostly unfinished like forget about a first draft of the text i havent even finished the first ddraft of the outline yet buckarooooooo

okay fuck you guys thats all i want to tell you im going to go pretend to myself to try to go to sleep and then cry now

[starlightkun]

okay my superlong ask part 1/3 (i could do it in 2 but i decided to do it in paragraphs so it makes more sense and is easier to read)

https://www.tumblr.com/warmau/734555744763035648/this-is-how-all-the-men-i-write-are-like?source=share ^^ changer and buzzer beater sungchan be like

but OMGOMGOMG

FIRSTLY the new masterlist is GORGEOUS and so well thought out! it just looks so organised and the notes about the inclusivity and how you're going back to fix old fics is so professional im really impressed and its really kind and generous of you to take such an initiative by taking the time to do so. Also the note about how you may say that certain members are taller than reader insert with sicheng only if you're feeling extra nice had me ROLLING

also the bite updates are so funny, like mark is so losercore and the fact that reader is going to be a loser as well is so up my alley and so endearing. like flirting about FAX MACHINES?! only the highest quality loserxloser content.

- ✨anon

under the cut <33

the post u linked to was deleted 😭 im sorry im sure it was very funny and true to my sweet baby boys changer!sungchan and bb!sungchan

thank youuuu abt the masterlist! i was contemplating abt reorganization and everything for a while and i knew i didn't want too complicated of a key, but i wanted to be able to delineate a little more than i had in my last one between my more serious fics and my more silly fics a la dr_magic lol (and i also wanted to take the opportunity to unofficially "archive" some older fics of mine that i feel like aren't as representative of me as a writer anymore but i also didn't really want to delete either, so the old mlist is my "archive masterlist" now with all my fics pre-love bites) ;; and on that height inclusivity note, i myself am 5'8/172cm ish, so i know when i personally read fics where like kun is supposed to be towering over the reader it completely takes me out bc like. i am not delusional that man is 1 inch taller than me. i would be taller than him with some thick-soled shoes try again lol. i put on my platform doc martins and its OVER for him. i don't consider anybody "tall" unless they're noticeably taller than me (which is usually 5'11ish, but i call it at 180cm international for good measure. sicheng's official height is like 179cm/5'10.5" so if i'm feeling nice i'll include him in the tallies club. esp now that he's the tallest wayv member and he just absolutely towers over wayv tinie line lmao). i know it's the sort of heads-up i'd like as a reader, esp considering how some writers seem a bit. obsessed with the reader-insert being absolutely tiny and smaller than every member (which hey! some readers are actually 4'11 and dejun would be huge compared to them!) but when it's mentioned not only in every fic but in fics w members who are canonically shorter than me irl it just so detracts from the moment for me.

i've been going back to edit stuff for moments where i thoughtlessly mentioned the reader blushing/turning pink or gripping smth so hard their knuckles turn white, in addition for the random dozen cameos that are in quite a few (don't get me started on sleepless cinderella,,,, idk what i'm doing with her yet other than fixing skin tone refs). i got an ask a couple years ago abt the blushing in one of my fics, actually, and while i changed the specific instance right then, as well as made sure not to reference skin tone in my future writings, i know that people still find my older fics and i personally just kind of,,, idk cringe? when i revisit old fics and they've got skin tone refs in them like that. bc it doesn't represent the writer i am now, and i hate for people to think that it's representative of me and my fics currently. so yeah, i'm slowly working through fixing old fics for those bits and the dozen references too

the bite is actually a kun fic (u may be confusing it w baby fangs? which is a mark wip, and i can see how the titles would get confusing) but we do in fact get some loserxloser content in BOTH the bite and baby fangs yep yep i love writing losers in love its trueeee. they flirt about fax machines and it's truly soulmate behavior im afraid (the bite!mc literally says "i think men with fax machines are sexy, especially personal fax lines" like somebody COME GET UR BESTIE SHE IS CRINGEFAILING ON MAIN RN!! and kun adores her and her cringefail flirting ehhehe)

okay long ask part 2/3 now onto LOVE BITES omg i know its only been a few weeks since changer was released but i missed these two so much. your description of sungchan as a weighted blanket was so cuddly and delicious i just love him he's such a big puppy even though you said jenos a puppy and sung is a wolf hes still just a little guy to me (he is 185 centimetres, taller than most refrigerators) the way you write sungchan is just so great, the way hes just a big sweaty guy and has little insecurities that him and reader work through makes him feel so real and so vulnerable in an endearing way. also when reader pulled out the old photos of sung and taro from mr jung i was DYING. like "little dweebus uniform" is so relatable, we all have skeletons (terrible photos from primary/elementary school) in our closets (parents houses) when reader and taro are texting and reader is like "my little guy :( so uwuw" and taro is like "that fucken TREE OF A GUY?!" and "IS THIS YOUR MANS?!" with the horrifying close up i felt very seen and also got a very helpful reminder to burn all my group photos from school. honestly there are so many quotes from love bites that i want to frame but um……. mel what is this "You didn’t deserve to ever feel… an aching hole, because of me.” 🤨🤨🤨😏😏😏 i KNOW you know what you did and honestly i was so close to screaming and throwing my phone across the room when it happened. but you know what? changer sungchan unintentionally saying the craziest innuendo whilst trying to make a sincere apology is probably the most fitting thing for his character. anyways, thank you for slotting in dirty jokes for us because its so unexpected and funny. i think thats all i have to say about love bites! thank you for taking the time to write the most amazing, comforting, sweet and funny story. - ✨anon

changer sungchan IS a big puppy but don't say that to his face or he'll pout abt it </33 also idk why "taller than most refrigerators" made me laugh so hard but it did. comparing men to refrigerators for height reference is just a very funny concept to me.

i also LOVED writing taro and reader's continuing bickering friendship throughout the fic i thought they were fantastic and i did in fact make myself laugh a couple different times, esp writing out the texts with the mathletes pictures. i also loved being able to show that reader was just as delusional whipped IN LOVE abt sungchan as sungchan was for reader. like being absolutely endeared and heart eyes abt your s/o's dorky old school pictures while simultaneously roasting your mutual friend who is also in those same pictures for being dorky. mwah, chef's kiss, i love them and rip taro

I TRULY DID NAWT REALIZE THE INNUENDO UNTIL U SENT THIS ASK OMG. i was just trying to write sungchan being the sweetest lil guy ever but alas........the aching hole that i will never be able to UNREAD now. but it is sooo in-character for him that i truly was overtaken by the spirit of changer!sungchan in that moment and had no clue what i was writing good lord

OKAY FINALLY PART 3/3 for the timeline question hmmmmmmm i dont know i think i kind of just assumed that the fics were coming out in chronological order but now im not sure????? like obv for the ones with sequels the sequel is after the first but like the rest its all kinda up in the air for me. so like, changer is after pupsick because in sung got with changer!reader because of pupsick!reader and friends. dr magic i assume is happening between pupsick and changer or at the same time as changer because renjun seemed very much single during pupsick because he was at the cafe FAST when pupsick!reader called him and during dr magic, renjun was very much busy between meeting drmagic!reader to witness her pepe silvia arc, being dr magic and studying. tdhea imo is before pupsick just cause all the dreamies have way too much time on their hands to tease and get frustrated about jisung and tdhea!reader and imo that's peak single behaviour because like i said before, renjun was a BUSY BOY during dr magic and jeno was literally sick during most of pupsick so he wouldn't be as spritely as he is during tdhea. for romance is dead and strawberry sunday i literally have no clue, i just assumed that they were both early on considering they were released first. its also just a lot harder because theres only one strawbsun fic for 127 and wayv each so there's less overlap in the members and just less context clues to go off of. but i'd love to know just how wrong i am in my assumtions (if you're willing to give up such information) and compare it with what everyone else thinks - ✨anon

okay so ur timeline looks like:

rid/miracle/strawberry sunday > tdhea > pupsick/abh > dr_magic2303 > changer/love bites

which isn't too far off other than the placing of rid/miracle, which makes sense bc that one kind of has the least context with the other fics. here's my official timeline (sans some unofficial wips) that i've been working off of as soon as i realized this was going to be a lot more than 3 fics. i based the general years off of strawberry sunday!reader/jungwoo's college career (they're in sophomore yr in their fic). the whole crew is generally all the same year, though, so the years are pretty accurate for everybody

(mark molts the summer before sophomore yr) **STRAWBSUNDAY!MC'S SOPHOMORE YR** STRAWBERRY SUNDAY – SPRING SEMESTER (SPRING BREAK) PUPSICK – SUMMER BREAK **STRAWBSUNDAY!MC'S JUNIOR YR** TDHEA – FALL SEMESTER A BRIEF HISTORY (PUPSICK2) – FALL SEMESTER (VERY END/WINTER BREAK) ROMANCE IS DEAD – SPRING SEMESTER BABY FANGS – SPRING SEMESTER CHANGER – SPRING SEMESTER/BEGINNING OF SUMMER BREAK **STRAWBSUNDAY!MC'S SENIOR YR** LOVE BITES (CHANGER2) – END OF SUMMER BREAK/FALL SEMESTER MIRACLE (RID2) – FALL SEMESTER DR_MAGIC2303 – SPRING SEMESTER

they uh, they get busy junior yr huh...

also i feel like jeno didn't do too much meddling in tdhea to be considered single behavior, he was just kinda there......bc he had nothing better to do while pupsick!reader was at study sessions 😔 very conveniently-timed study sessions and bakery shifts without jeno that leave jeno completely free to be in every relevant scene for tdhea... aw shucks 😔😔😔 and her very convenient bakery shifts in changer2 like wow 😔😔 minseok is rlly working pupsick!reader to the bone huh 😔😔😔😔 pupsick3 is just gonna b reader and jeno unionizing against minseok

one thing to know abt strawbsunday universe!renjun is that he is going to be BUSY and BOOKED between school, running an online persona solving people's magical ailments, meddling in his friends' relationships, and falling head over heels for his academic rival who is currently in her pepe silvia arc. do NOT underestimate his multi-tasking abilities. he's built different

but im rlly so happy that you liked the fics so much to send me SO MUCH abt it and have all these little thoughts like you truly keep my writing heart fed. like i write for myself but i post for others, and actually knowing that there's a human out there reading them and coming to interact with me and give genuine feedback rlly makes posting worth it so THANK YOU so so much truly 💗💗💗🫶🫶🫶

[mosviqu]

lmao yeahhh at least the self awareness is there it's something iguess😭

i just hope i will grow to like them one day cuz i dont want to let go of the 03liners💔 their choreography and fits were great but i just hope they will get better songs next time or sumn (sorry if there are any boynextdoor fans who are reading this) DUDE SAME I WAS SO HAPPY ABOUT HIM!!!! (jiung is amazingggg) AHHH IM SO EXCITED AS WELL this is probably going to be my fav ep from them judging by the previews or whatever they are called🤭 IM GLAD SUNOO IS APART OF OUR CREW😌JUST A GREAT ADDITION REALLY!! (ooo at least the number of 03liners that i know about is growing xd)

THEY SHOULD JUST HIRE U THEN ACTUALLY LMAO U WOULD BE THE BEST PROTECTOR!!! and now i know that i definitely do not want u to get mad at me🥸

so true but i think writing might be like that as well because before i sent u that ask i literally just didn't really write in english at all😟 IM GLAD U UNDERSTAND ME🥳 ohh god i'm sorry but that's kind of a funny story ur poor roommate😭 I HOPE U GUYS STILL HAVE THEM JUST TO WATCH THEM BACK AND LAUGH (or cringe)

the tiktok algorithm just knows how to get people hooked onto something:o AND YESSS HE IS SO ADORABLE!! i only know them as well in addition with yujin(youngest) and gyuvin(my beloved) but the poor three left just feels like i will never get them😭😭 2hours is just too long of a time istg

IM GLAD U LIKED SOME BUT I THINK I DID VERY BAD WITH THE RECOMMENDATIONS LMAO

(ajhdhdjfj dude when i read ur authors note i also almost cried i started reading it on my bus ride home so i think people thought i was crazy or sumn lmao) and also i can't remember wether i have replied to ur last reply on ur main or did i only reply to it in my head so if u would let me know i would appreciate it.-. (liebestraum anon💕💕)

no bc its so unfortunate i truly hope the next comeback is better 😭😭😭 im sorry boynextdoor fans it just wasnt for me sadly 😔 if the music is good we are more than happy to recruit new 03 line besties to the squad tho!!

THE CB LOOKS SO GOOD i keep hearing the song on tiktok and each time i think its out already and i go check it out and its not. this could be very well prevented if i just checked the cb date but im honestly too lazy so ill just wait for it to appear in my spotify notifs or something 😭😭

I AM THE BEST PROTECTOR its the aries rage and loyality ❤ also being the only daughter of the family helps SSHSJ. also dont worry i usually dont get violently mad at my friends i usually just turn petty on them so. no fights here dw dw AHAHA

no bc if i didnt have tumblr i just wouldnt use english much either LMAO also i feel like that every time i write a fic after a long time i feel like i turn rusty and i just cant get anything out of me 😭😭 takes me a few mins to adapt truly. also i would say poor my roommate but honestly she didnt know what major to pick so she copied me so thats on her 🤷‍♀️ (jk im glad we stuck together ive known her for 4 years now and if it wasnt for her i would be handling uni much worse than i am). ALSO WE DO HAVE MOST OF THEM but some got deleted 😔💔

LITERALLY the tiktok algorithm is my bestie but also my biggest enemy (have i mentioned that i got into wilbur through tiktok. :,)) but yes hanbin is the new love of my life thankyou. i am so excited for their debut TT lets hope i learn their names quickly AHAHA

YOU DIDNT DO BADLY W THE RECOMMENDATIONS I JUST NEED TO BE IN A SPECIFIC MOOD FOR NEW SONGS I GUESS 😭😭 i'll update u on all my next progress w the tbz listening party <3

:(((( crying is strictly prohibited with matters thay include me. /j ((also if u mean on rrxnjun,, i replied to your ask after u sent this one ?? Im not really sure ??? but as of now i have no more asks from u!)

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

It is the next day and im feeling pretty good about this wip! Percy POV is bound to be fun with his sass (fingers crossed i can write it justice) and i've just got a good feeling about today and writing.

Okay as we can see here i've done the inadvisable "start writing and see where it takes you" (inadvisable because going in without an end point is a good way to get stuck halfway through, but i know i can fall back into one of the outlines i have so I'm relatively safe)

This starting line is... weak, to be perfectly honest. I need something like it but not... this. It needs a more concrete detail or emotion i think, to truly be a good starting line.

Okay, deleted that line and tried to start over, and I think i like it! ...mostly

The very first line is still weak, but i want three "fact"s to fully support the structure of this introduction to the fic.

Okay! changed the tense of the first bit which adds to the here and now aspect of it, and the list format, and of course, the infamous "You're not my type" reference I do so love.

Now I'm thinking I should change the dialogue bit, have Percy say "Im trying to espionage" in a wrongful use of a long word, because cringe is dead and I can do what I want, and also... would he know what sleuthing is. be honest. he would not.

Now I think this has some real Percy Vibes. Dialogue is one of the most important details for me to get right, along with narrator voice. For instance, my Technoblade POV and my Oli TheOrionSound POV sound very different, which is good! They have very different voices and speech patterns and habits, so they require different narration styles as well. Now, this is very much my opinion, and I think it's what works for my own writing, so don't worry about it in your own if you don't want to.

Now it's time for me to get my coffee and maybe sit down to do some early writing sprints.

Okay, 15 minute timer is being set. and we going! 108 words to start. Oops, went a bit longer than 15, but 413 total words now! about 20 words per minute, pretty damn good for me!

Need to go back and add dialogue tags but thats a problem for future L... which i should write down in my doc.

made a new "draft" aka clicky tab for me, and this is all stuff I'm going to do either during a reread before i continue to write, or after i'm done with the bulk of writing. The title will probably be in the style of the introduction (Fact: [fact here], Theory: [theory here], or maybe even Hypothesis: [nico and will should kiss] or something like that)

Actually gonna write that down in the "ao3 stuffs" tab/draft

can you guys believe this is all for a fic that isn't even 500 words yet. Can you believe it. with all of the extra stuff that's happened before we hit 500 words of prose. Gods.

Anyways, had a break, am back again, but I think I'm gonna call this reblog good and do another if i work on it more today.

write a oneshot with me!

Welcome to the "WIP With Me" post where i tell you in excruciating detail how i write a oneshot fanfiction. We're going step by step here, starting with setting up my document.

I'm using Ellipsus here, because google docs made a (minor) change i am (unfortunately) very upset about (my outline used to look good :< )

I usually have sections i can click to for my outline/braindump area, and "ao3 stuffs" (tags, summary, authors notes, etc.)

As you can see, im not entirely sure what i want to write yet! Right now i want to write a Percy Jackson and the Olympians (or Heroes of Olympus) fanfic, but it very well may end up being more... minecraft youtube -esque. Or witcher.

Now, I'm thinking i want to write a Nico Di Angelo/Will Solace fic, specifically "three days in the infirmary", because i love it and you can never do it too many times, but! I am also thinking doing a Percy/Jason bromance fic might be fun? I started a ficlet yesterday about them, and i think it's an interesting concept, though it would be messy to tag.

I write down my notes and ideas with bullet points or a checklist, sometimes in a physical notebook, but this time i did it in a "draft" (connected doc that i could merge with ellipsus, but won't)

as you can see, i fleshed the concepts out some, very very messily. Yes, the messiness is crucial to the process. this is very likely not going to reflect the final product. you've been warned.

(also, i am just updating this as i go, i am actually at this step in the process as i type it)

OKAY AFTER A BREAK I AM BACK and i think that the "3 days in the infirmary but Percy POV" will be the most fun for me, because obliviousness <3

So now it's time to brainstorm more, or get a couple of outlines about how i want to structure this fic. Maybe a 5+1 fic, like "five times Percy didn't know what was going on, and one time he realized" or something like that

okay so obviously theres a theme happening here, i just think it would be funny for percy to just... be aware for once? it seems like people write him as an airhead, which he is, but surely thats not all there is to him.

i'm So Tired though, so i will pick this back up later tonight or tomorrow to document the Detailed Outline and (hopefully) Writing process! And then after that is editing :)

[stevengrant-my-beloved]

(he love me) he give me all his money I Part 2 [18+]

Part 1 I Series Masterlist

summary: A brief interaction with a catfish on a sugar daddy website leads to something quite unexpected and suddenly you're on the radar of genius tech billionaire Nathan Bateman, and honestly, you don't mind the attention.

chapter warnings: none (?), light sprinkling of daddy kink (as a joke mostly but...)

a/n: honestly i dont even know where im going with this but here we are

also just a note about the texts in this fic

> Texts like these are from Nathan. [bold and italicized]

> texts like these are from you [italicized]

The next morning finds you laying in bed, eyes wide open as you scroll through the text thread you now had with the CEO of BlueBook.

You're really hot.

That's the text that the Nathan Bateman had sent you the day before, the one you'd opened but still hadn't replied to, and honestly you didn't know what to write back because Nathan fucking Bateman had called you hot.

Thing is, you know that you're hot, you're fucking smoking, you had thousands of pictures on your Instagram to prove it, but you never did get used to compliments, especially when they came from someone like Bateman (a man you'd lowkey been thirsting over for years).

And, fuck, you realize how casually you'd spoken to him yesterday, and a part of you cringes because he's probably just sitting in his huge cabin in the mountains or some shit, gawking at your audacity to not only speak with him like you were old pals but to also seen zone him.

Then there was the issue of the eighteen hundred dollars just sitting in your bank account. Somewhere along the way you'd managed to forget he'd actually sent you money because of a stupid joke in a video.

You open up your mobile banking app, your finger hovering over the send button for a few moments, before hurriedly typing out the necessary info to send back the money you'd received.

Successfully sent.

You sent $1800.00 to Nathan Bateman.

Not even a second later, you get a banner notification from the man himself.

You seen zone me AND you give me back my mon...

And in the panic to put your phone away, you fumble and accidentally click on the notification, which meant Bateman could now see that you'd seen his text.

> You seen zone me AND you give me back my money?

> Were you lying in your Top 10 video? About me being your favorite?

And not even a second later-

> Well?

You imagine him sitting in his swivel chair, in some big office in his cabin in the middle of god knows where, one eyebrow raised up like it usually is in almost all the pictures that have been taken of him. Maybe he's stroking that luscious beard of his as he waits for you to reply, and there's a part of you that wants to ignore him a little more, see what he might do next, but you don't want to risk the possibility of him just not ever talking to you again so you text back.

> i panicked okay?? ur like this rich CEO guy and im just some silly goofy internet person ..

> and bout ur money. that was just a lil joke for the video, please keep your dollars Mr. Bateman

> Fuck off with that Mr. Bateman shit. Call me Nathan

> And, it's my money, I can do what I want with it.

You chew on your bottom lip, typing out words and deleting them, unsure of what to say to him.

> ik you've got enough of it to go around but i really dont know how i feel about just taking your money..

> Think of it as compensation for what you had to endure at the hands of Imposter Bateman.

> i- dude that was a JOKE

> Too bad I'm quite literal-minded.

> Okay in all seriousness, can you go back to how you were yesterday? 

> Just talk to me like you would with any other friend.

> And I'm sending the money back. Treat yourself to something nice.

You've received $1800.00 from Nathan Bateman

"Daddy Bateman sends his regards."

---

Texting Nathan became a regular thing after the initial awkwardness. It was simple stuff at first, short greetings throughout the day, followed by things like 'spent some of that 1800$ u sent on this shitty coffee' with a picture of you holding your coffee cup or 'thoughts?' accompanied by the Imposter Bateman drawing you made one day, basically just a rough sketch of an Among Us astronaut with Nathan's head instead of a visor. He'd always reply, no matter how late he got sometimes (he was a busy man after all, you could understand), even sending back blurry pictures, sometimes of piles of paperwork, sometimes of strings of code on a computer with messages like 'that looks awful i'm suing you for psychological damage' (with regards to the Imposter Bateman sketch) or 'good to know my money's being put to use' and 'let me know if you need more'.

That last kind of text was always followed up with a transfer of money into your account, anywhere between fifty dollars to two thousand, and any attempts you made to return the money were just straight up rejected.

> am i a charity case?

> No.

> so why spend ur money on me when u could be donating?

> First off, I barely send you any money. Second, I do donate, actually.

> 2000$ isnt 'barely any money'

> wait i forgot who i was talking to nvm-

> so why give me money?

> Because I can.

> ugh whatever

> can i post about u? about us being mutuals and u sendin me money n shit

> Sure.

> cool

---

You'd felt a little bad about keeping your followers in the dark about everything that had transpired after you'd posted the sugar daddy video, especially when they'd been so invested in getting Nathan's attention for you, but in the end it didn't matter because once you posted the screenshots of the notification that you'd received when Nathan followed you and when he'd sent you money, your fans had excitedly started tweeting about your 'sugar baby era' and about how you'd gotten Nathan Bateman of all people to follow you first (because yes, you'd made sure to clarify that little detail, which Nathan later confirmed in a tweet).

And since everything was now out in the open, you and Nathan began interacting outside of your Instagram DMs, tweeting at each other about the most random things. You'd even tagged him in a couple of Instagram posts with captions like 'this post was sponsored by @thenathanbateman_official . cause i bought these clothes with his money' or '@thenathanbateman_official can u please text me back im sorry i used ur money to buy new airpods i know better now #bluebookissuperior'

Your fans loved it. It seemed like they lived for every interaction between you and Nathan, and honestly, you lived for them too.

You'd even turned on notifications for the guy! You didn't even do that for the friends you knew in person, although, it didn't really amount to much since Nathan rarely posted anything on his Instagram. It was usually just reposts from different accounts that had mentioned his work, or the occasional post on his stories about life at his secluded cabin.

You'd asked him about it only once.

> where do u actually live tho??

> cause im dying to know

> Can't tell. Last thing I need is the press coming out here.

> i wont tell anyone. pinky swear

That's the first time he'd called you.

"Hey," his low voice sounded through your phone. You could hear a faint buzzing in the background but besides that, it remained quiet for a few seconds.

"It's Nathan."

You swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. "Uh, hi, yeah, what's up?" you ask, mentally kicking yourself for how awkward you sounded.

"Needed both my hands free to get this job done, so I thought I'd call."

"Yeah, no, that's fine."

"You wanted to know where I lived yeah? Any guesses?"

You hum, like you're deep in thought. "I always thought you might be on a private island or up on a mountain maybe."

Nathan chuckles, and you try not to focus on the way it causes a shiver to run down your spine. "I have better things to spend money on than a private island. And no, I'm not up on a mountain."

"Okay, so where are you then?" you ask, holding back a remark to the comment he'd made about 'having better things to spend money on'.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he asks, and you try not to focus on the way your thighs had involuntarily clenched together at the way his voice dropped just a little.

"Yeah, that's why I fucking asked, Bateman," you bite back, hoping he doesn't catch onto how out of breath you sound, because holy fuck, Nathan Bateman was talking to you on the phone and you were pretty sure you were having a mild heart attack or something.

"Relax sweetheart," he says softly, and yup, that definitely made you throb a little in the nether region. "And didn't I tell you not to call me that?"

You try not to focus on the way he calls you sweetheart, either.

You and Nathan ended up talking for hours (2 to be exact), about your work and his, about your next video, about his money that was still in your account, going back and forth trying to argue about what you should and shouldn't spend it on ("Kitten, you absolutely cannot spend my money on anymore Apple Products, I will block you I swear-" he'd said, to which you'd replied "I posted a picture wearing cat ears once, a year ago. Let it go. Also, screw you, it's my money now, I get to buy whatever the fuck I want."), before you eventually said your goodbyes and headed to bed.

You try not to focus on the way your heart is still hammering in your chest even hours after your call with Nathan.

---

"Did I wake you up?" Nathan asks one night, after he'd called you at around 2 a.m. in the morning.

Luckily for him, you'd actually been getting ready to do a late night Twitch stream.

"Nah, I was up. Going live on Twitch in a bit."

"Right, right. Reacting to another bad web series? Or are you gaming this time?"

You pause for a few seconds, still not used to the fact that the Nathan Bateman was so aware of your online presence. Technically, he was aware of everyone's at any given moment, but it still threw you off.

"Gaming," you reply as you check on your cam settings and make sure you have everything set up for the stream.

The calls had become a regular thing too, at some point. Usually you'd text Nathan, and ever since that first phone call, without fail he'd call your phone instead of replying to your text, and that conversation almost always went like this-

"Why the fuck would I put everything aside just to text you, when I can just call you and work at the same time?" he'd say.

You'd scoff and reply with something like "Wow, fuck you too asshole," before the two of you would settle into pleasant conversation about anything and everything under the sun.

This time was just like every other time, except-

"Alright, I need to start the stream soon, so..."

You hear him sigh, before saying, "Yeah, yeah, I'll let you go. Don't stay up too late."

"Yessir. I'll text you later."

"Good girl. Have fun with the stream." And with that, Nathan hung up.

The next few hours had gone by pretty quickly. You'd started the stream, played a couple of hours of some old indie game that your subscribers had been requesting for you to check out, before signing off.

It was only after you had gotten ready for bed at 4 a.m. that Nathan's words had really settled in.

Good girl.

You didn't think that would do it for you, but surprise, surprise, it obviously did, especially because it came from Nathan, and you find yourself tossing and turning in bed with a growing ache deep and low inside you, your skin growing warmer by the second.

"Fuck," you whisper out into the darkness for no one to hear, squeezing your thighs together only to feel how wet you'd gotten and it was honestly a little mortifying how one man's voice coupled with the words 'good girl' had gotten you to this state.

You always had been a sucker for praise, but this was new.

Just as you're about to turn over to sleep on your side (because yes, you're going to ignore the way your underwear is essentially sticking to you from how wet you are), your phone pings with a new notification.

> Make sure you're home tomorrow at around 3 p.m.

> ?

> Just make sure you're at home.

You roll your eyes at your phone (with the biggest smile on your face), before typing out-

> yes daddy

You see Nathan typing for a few seconds, which is a little weird since he's usually quick to send a reply.

> Good girl.

> You should sleep. We can talk later.

> Night.

You stare at your phone, wondering what the fuck happened because Nathan usually isn't one to leave a conversation first, at least not with you. Even if he said you should sleep early, he usually was up and texting you until the sun rose, but apparently not tonight.

Weird.

You don't have much time to dwell on it though, because you get another notification from your mobile banking app.

You've received $2500.00 from Nathan Bateman

"For being a good girl."

[maria-akira]

good girls don't get used: michael langdon x fem! reader

—♡—

READ PART 2 HERE

summary: michael langdon, your ex, falls into a bet wherein he has to (fake) date you. if he falls in love again, he loses and doesn't get the prize.

warnings: private school au, fuckboy!michael, slight mention of sexual topics + i didnt proofread this mwahaha

this fic is inspired by the song 'good girls (don't get used)' by beach bunny.

i don't know if other private schools have bells, because mine doesn't :(

italicized bold words are direct lyrics from the song. but in this chapter, there are none since this is like an intro :)

—♡—

"Dude, shut the fuck up."

"Are you kidding? She really said that?"

"You really think that's gonna happen?"

"Who's class do you have first?"

Voices of different students flooded the white and grey hallways of the school. Different friend groups and teachers can be seen roaming the halls, getting stuff from their respective lockers as they waited for the bell to ring.

"Y/N! Do you mind if I borrow your calculator? I forgot mine at home and Math is my next class." She said while panting.

"Sure, here it is. If you lose it, I'd probably drop kick your ass." Y/N let out a small laugh and grabbed the calculator from her locker, giving it to her friend.

"Gosh, Y/N. I'll never lose it! I'll give it back during recess. Thanks again!" She flashed Y/N a smile and waved bye, before returning to her locker.

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror she had on her locker, fixing the tie that always seemed to be out of place whenever she checked. Her hair was neat, complete with a white headband that complimented the color of her school's uniform.

A few seconds later, the bell rang and everybody started rushing. Different couples were seen kissing before they parted ways for the mean time.

Cringe. Y/N thought. She shrugged it off and held her books tightly to her chest, walking to her next class.

Walking straight into the classroom, she noticed a group of guys dart their eyes to her direction as she entered. They gave her weird smirks. In return, she stared back at them while she made her way to her seat and never broke eye contact. Eventually, she noticed a familiar face among the group.

Michael, her ex.

How the fuck is he in my English class? She thought, along with a whole hundred thoughts roaming around her head. Michael stared back at her, giving her a wink.

Y/N's face gave a hint of disgust, "The fuck do you want, Langdon?" She stood up from her seat and walked over to Michael, pushing his other friends. She heard his friends coo and tease Michael for his act towards her.

Michael put up his hands in defense, "Chill, is it bad to wink at a pretty girl like you?" He said with a smug look, while he grazed his hand over her arm.

"Shut the fuck up, Langdon. Don't you ever touch me." Y/N slapped his hand away, his friends taken aback from her actions. As she walked back to her seat, the teacher entered as well.

Y/N put her face in her hands. By now, a million thoughts were in her head. It's been 2 years since Michael and her broke up, and since then, she made a promise to herself that she would never fall in love with men like him. She was so tired of all the tears and sleepless nights that Michael gave her.

She let out a sigh and lifted her head from her hands. The soft light from the windows filled her eyes after the darkness formed by her hands, causing her to rub her eyes to adjust from the light.

The rest of the hour went smoothly for Y/N, after English class was recess, her most favorite time of the day— aside from going home, of course.

She glanced at her watch, 10:28 AM.

2 more minutes, and English will be over. She thought.

She averted her gaze back on the white board full of scribbles about some writing lesson she clearly did not listen to. She looked over to her classmates and friends, Well they aren't listening either. She laughed at the thought.

As soon at the bell rang, everyone started packing up their notebooks, textbooks, and whatever they had on their table. Every student was seen rushing out of every classroom in hopes of being the first ones in line for the cafeteria.

On the way there, Y/N bumped into her friend group. "Hey Y/N! We heard about happened in English class. Michael is really in your class?" A friend of hers mentioned, "Yea, and apparently that son of a bitch winked at me, such a disgusting ass motherfucker. he should keep his fuck boy ass to himself." Y/N spat out, earning a chorus of 'oh's' from her friends.

When they arrived at the cafeteria, the line was painfully long, all of them groaned in frustration and they had no choice but to wait for the line to move. But once it did, it was faster than usual. After Y/N and her friends received their food, they left the cafeteria to eat at their usual place.

The school rooftop.

A few students know that staying in the school rooftop is permitted, which was why Y/N and her friends loved eating there.

When they arrived at the rooftop, they saw the usual people that they always encounter while staying there. The view was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. The small garden in the rooftop gave a beautiful and elegant touch.

Though there were a few chairs and tables, Y/N and her friends always preferred to eat on the floor. So, they laid the linen cloth on the ground and sat on it. Y/N was wearing the skirt uniform, thus she removed her tux and placed it on her legs to prevent her skirt from lifting.

They shared a few giggles while they ate their meals, laughing about some life experiences, or whatever they wanted to talk about.

Y/N loved this. She loved how she and her friends would have little moments like these, it was like an escape from reality.

The rest of the day went smoothly for Y/N. She didn't fall asleep in any of her classes, which in this case was a very big accomplishment for her.

As soon as she arrived home, her little brother, Aaron, rushed towards her. "Y/N!! I missed you!" He chimed, Y/N kneeled down onto his level and gave him the tightest hug. "I missed you too, Aaron!" Her mom came into the room and smiled. Y/N stood up and gave her mom a hug as well.

"How was school?" Her mom asked, Y/N placed her tux on the coat hanger by the door. "It was fine, Mom. Where's Dad?" Y/N walked over to the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk, "He'll be home soon, he still has a meeting right now." She took a sip of her milk, "Oh, okay. I'll be upstairs doing school work." The glass of milk that was once full, now empty.

She took her things upstairs and plopped herself on the bed. Out of nowhere she felt a vibrating noise from her bag, she rummaged through her bag to find her phone and once she did, a message was see on her lockscreen.

Unknown Sender has sent you a message.

She unlocked her phone and went to her messages.

Unknown Sender: hey ;)

Her eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck?

(Y/N): hi? whos this?

read 2:29 pm

Unknown Sender: oh shit you deleted my number? damn.

"Huh? I don't recall deleting anyone's number..." She went to her recently deleted contacts and it showed nothing.

(Y/N): im sorry, i haven't deleted anyone's number recently, maybe you have the wrong number?

read 2:32 pm

Unknown Sender: im pretty sure you know me, Y/N.

They know my name. And her heart started pounding.

(Y/N): and im pretty sure i dont, so just reveal yourself before i report this number

read 2:35pm

Unknown Sender: ayo chill 😬 its me michael.

"Michael fucking Langdon? You've got to be fucking me right now." She felt rage fill her, slamming her keyboard.

(Y/N): langdon what the fuck do you want? i made it very clear that i dont want you talking to me.

read 2:40 pm

Before Michael could reply, she changed his contact name to 'Motherfucker'

You have changed Unknown Sender's contact name as 'Motherfucker'

Motherfucker: damn you still mad at me after 2 years? gosh (Y/N). whats with the nickname?

(Y/N): of course im still mad, asshole. ill never forget what you fucking did.

read 2:43 pm

Motherfucker: i thought you forgave me 🥺

(Y/N): FORGIVE YOU???? god langdon you're so fucking stupid, i will never forgive you. you didnt even say sorry in the first place!

Pissed off, Y/N blocked his number. "That fucking asshole." She mumbled to herself.

—

"Hey! Y/N!" A familar voice called out from the crowd. Y/N removed one earbud and turned around to find the voice that called her.

Once she saw the shiny blonde locks from that stood out in the crowd, she immediately ran in the opposite direction in hopes of avoiding him.

It was Michael, again.

"Y/N wait!" Michael called out again, chasing her

For some reason, Michael was able to catch her. He pulled Y/N into an empty science laboratory and they were both panting.

"What the fuck do you want this time, Langdon?" Y/N was catching her breath, fanning herself with her hand.

"Okay. First off, sorry for the sudden message. I know I pissed you off and that wasn't my intention at a—"

"What was your intention then?" She cut him off.

Michael panicked.

"Uh, you know? I just wanna talk to you again. Clear the bad air between us.."

Y/N let out a laugh, "Clear the bad air?? Oh gooood Langdon, you are really so stupid! You know what? You just made it worse." She pushed him off and walked out of the room,

"Whatever it is your planning, Langdon, I'm telling to stop it. I don't wanna talk to you or even go near you."

Michael was dumbfounded. She changed so much. He thought to himself.

2 years ago, Y/N was the sweetest, most innocent girl he knew. Playing with her feelings was Michael's biggest regret, and he's starting to feel it again.

Michael was about to leave the room until he felt a buzzing from his pocket, He pulls out his phone to see who was calling him.

Duncan, one of his bestfriends.

Michael answered the call, "Hello?"

"What's the update on your little girl?"

"She still doesn't trust me."

"That's sad man."

"I know. She changed alot. "

"What do you mean by 'changed'?" Duncan emphasized,

"I can't point it out, Dunc."

"Whatever you do, don't chicken out. I promise this bet is worth it."

"Fine, I trust you."

Call Ended.

Michael ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and left the room before the bell rang.

—

It was the last subject of the day. Most students were falling asleep or on their phones.

Y/N was scribbling weird things on the back of her notebook, when suddenly the bell rang. She packed up her stuff and stood up from her seat. Before she could leave the room, she saw a familiar face again.

Michael stood by the doorway of her classroom, the strap of his bag over one shoulder while he looked for Y/N among the other students.

Y/N ignored Michael and walked past him, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him.

"Langdon! What the fuck do you want?!" She screamed, all of the students averting their attention to her.

Michael put a finger on his lips, shushing her. "Let's go somewhere private, yea?"

"But—"

Before she could object, Michael dragged her outside towards the parking lot.

"Okay this is actually something serious—"

"CUT THE SHIT LANGDON! IM TIRED OF YOU."

"Woah‐woah! Easy now. I actually need your help, with school..."

Michael rubbed her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. For once, Y/N believed him. His eyes were speaking the truth.

"Okay, fine. Shoot."

"I can't believe I'm saying this.."

"Don't waste my time, Langdon."

"Fine! I'm failing."

Y/N's mouth hung open. Michael was one of the top students in their batch and this was obviously a huge surprise for her.

"Oh, really? What am I gonna do about that?" She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.

"Can you please help me? Like, tutor me?" At this point, Michael was desperate.

"Um, no thanks. Just fuck some other girl's pussy for your grades." Y/N pushed him away, but Michael stopped her again.

"I'm serious, Y/N. I really need your help."

"Why me?"

Now that made Michael nervous.

"Because you happen to be the top of our batch right now?"

"Fine! Under one condition."

Michael was curious, "What?"

"If I do this tutor shit, we're doing it at my place. I can't tutor you in your messy ass room." Y/N said. She always remembered how messy Michael's room was when they were together. He would only clean when he was scolded by Y/N.

"That's fine by me."

"Okay then. 5pm, sharp."

She walked away, but Michael pulled her again.

"Let me go! What do you want now?" Y/N said, clearly annoyed.

"Unblock my number, silly." Michael chuckled,

"No."

"How are you supposed to know if I already arrived?"

"Theres a doorbell, dimwit. I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

"Bu—"

"Bye, Michael. I'll see you later." Y/N flashed him a small smile and continued to walk away.

Once he saw Y/N reach the bus stop, he started walking to his car, until someone tapped him on his shoulder.

"Hey Michael, whats the update? I saw you talking to her." It was Duncan. His brown hair was lightly gelled back and the first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone.

"I'm still trying to win her back, I lied to her that I was failing so she could tutor me. That way, it'll be easier."

Duncan smirked, "That's my boy! When will this tutor thing start?"

"Later, 5pm."

"Hmm, that's good. Remember, if you fall in love again, bet's over."

"I won't."

—♡—

tags mwah: @kitwalker02 @sojournmichael @angelicmichael @deademobitch @iheartfrogs101 @tatestripedsweater @mrs-march-ahs

i hope you guys enjoyed this. i wrote this while doing schoolwork </3

[idontknowbutitsbjutifl]

#im just tired#im trying to figure it out on my own#any tips how get my shit together?#pls no 'go to therapy'#i aint ready for this for now

Sry for reblog but reacting to your tags would be too long for a comment : D Putting it on sideblog! Lemme know if you want me to delete it though <3 - Teryster

List of things that helped me/saved my ass before going to therapy:

I accepted as fact that I cannot DO anything until I'm safe, financially secure, well fed, slept 8 hours, feel clean, talked to a friend and worked out/stretched. Those are basic needs, not a treat or lucky accident. I forgive myself for not being functional if I didn't fulfill my needs first.

Tying to that, I got rid of abusive/toxic environment. It was very hard and I wasn't half aware of what was happening, but once I did it, it was like dropping dead weight and seeing clear for the first time. I was afraid I'm not gonna make it on my own - but once I was free of the abuse, I had suddenly more energy, clearer mind and I wasn't so afraid. I was capable to handle being alone and taking care of myself because I gained Safety.

I started thinking of myself as a machine that needs to cool off, get cleaned, repaired, upgraded or refuelled.

I learned to see all parts of me (body, brain, whatever) as my own team I'm fond of and not an enemy that backstabs me. I kid you not that shit did WONDERS - once I viewed my body as my friend, it started working FOR ME. Damn bruh

I stopped lying to people ("I can't go to work I broke my leg" while I was just crying in bed, or telling people I'm ok when I'm not, or cancelling a meetup telling people I got too much work while in reality I was too depressed to talk to anyone) and became honest - it was then way easier to be honest with myself too.

If I have Bad Days, I go through a list of things that could have caused it (because I can't tell like other people can I guess lol) and if I find nothing, I proclaim that day a Take It Easy Day. I don't expect anything from myself and anything I do is a Victory. It will pass, and it will pass faster if I just let it happen and wash away. If I fight it it gets worse, for me at least!

I don't keep my thoughts for myself - I either share them with friends that I have established healthy boundaries with, or I write it, or vent it through smth. But I do Process those thoughts and emotions (or more like I'm still learning : D). Keeping it in, even if it's the dumbest cringe thought, makes my brain so much worse. It's like wiping your brain free of rot.

I recognized that I'm never gonna be "normal" and it's always going to be struggle, but I had days now where I woke up and felt good and felt HAPPY. Comparing it to my worst days, it's definitely worth to fight for.

I stopped calling my to do list as list of things I need to do, but now I call it "getting rid of stressors" fkjfkjf Somehow it really motivates me to get shit done!

When I encounter a Fear (checking an email, calling a doctor, etc) I push myself to RUN INTO IT HEAD ON RIGHT THERE RIGHT NOW. Sometimes it's hysterical - I was once opening my postal box while softly yelling, but I did it!! It's still hard for me this one but it helped SO MUCH with those endless weeks/months of fearing something and then finally doing it and wow guess what, it wasn't bad at all : D

I take time to celebrate victories, but spend little time mourning failures. Still not so good at this but the system helped so much with depression!!

I identified the toxic cycles I can get into sometimes and I can now tell when they're coming (most of the time OTL) and avoid them! Like, for example, self-fullfilling prophecy where I subconciously want to fail on purpose to Be Right about myself being a failure. Like no, bitch, we work for success lets go!!

I found a really fun, fulfilling job that has a Meaning to me

I live with friends that share my interests and we help each other!

I watch funny videos of americans failing at shit and being dumb uvu instant boost

I don't appreciate my brain being a little bitch like sir can u stop making me depressed? give me a break bro 😞

[weabooweedwitch]

I really hope your pain lessens soon. What you’re going through is very difficult and you have every right to cry, feel angry, and resent the world. Soon this period of feelings will simmer away like a dying flame. It’ll take strength to embrace the world and all of its dark sides, but from what I can tell you’re a very strong person who’s more than capable of it. You are a person with many faucets and great creative energy. I truly appreciate everything you bring to this world, your dedication to art inspires me. Please stay safe<3

Oh gosh and here i thought I was done crying for the night ;u; I feel really shitty for uh well Having A Public Episode, kinda thought i was over having public mental crises on tumblr but, I guess, I dunno how to phrase this without sounding conceited, 'I guess most of you can tell I'm going through a lot of shit right now and hopefully will be mostly okay with the fact I brought up an extremely upsetting subject' but also I just. Feel really bad for making anyone really worried. I wonder if I should delete the posts and asks but also I feel like the conversation around it is important? Does thst make sense. I'm way too obsessed with how you guys probably see me after this, honestly, becuase it isn't like this is the first time I've needed some sort of help. I still feel bad for needing money when I was homeless. People gave money for Allister to get his surgery. And I internalize a lot of guilt whenever I need help and I guess that's part of the trauma i need to work through, somehow.

Anyways it also makes me really happy for you to bring to bring up like my creative hobbies and stuff too. I've been meaning to get back into my writing but I've also been wanting to pick up like, craft skills? Like my work was selling this little activity kits and I bought one for soap making and one for embroidering because I thought they would be fun to learn. And that's kind of something I feel like I should be trying to be pursuing more in my free time is how much I like to make art and create thing and I've kind of. Fallen into a hole a little bit. And I'm honestly starting to wonder if its because I'm forming a really horrible relationship with weed. I basically smoke before any pleasurable activity so I enjoy it more and sometimes I just sit and get so fucked up I wind up getting distracted and doing something else or I like, have to sleep, or, I spend too much time and have to go to work the next day or bed or whatever. And sometimes I say "oh ill smoke or drink before I write so im more inspired and like, yeah, it can help, but its gotten to the point where I refuse to try without and that's obviously. Not normal. I obviously inherited my father's addiction genes 💀💀💀

Wait i somehow circled back to being negative! Key points are im trying to do more things i enjoy even though I've been doing not so great mentally and I do enjoy creating things and sharing things and I hope to do some of that more in the future. Maybe I'll buy some paints and some small canvasses. I liked to paint when I was in the hospital because I didn't own any paints or materials to do so at home so it was fun to experiment and for some reason its like, a fond experience for me despite rhe fact I was in the big house

Oh god did I ever show you the time I like. Deadass painted Prospit and. What was rhe blue place. Either way that fucking dates me so hard. My cringe paintings from my fail childhood 🤣